


Umino Iruka and the Quiet War

by Leicontis



Series: Umino Iruka and the Will of Fire [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Gen, responsible adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-07 22:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leicontis/pseuds/Leicontis
Summary: Voldemort's back.  Now, with war looming, both sides begin their preparations in secret.
Series: Umino Iruka and the Will of Fire [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1076316
Comments: 29
Kudos: 106





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Being neither British nor Japanese, it should therefore come as no surprise that I own neither Harry Potter nor Naruto, nor anything from their respective franchises.

By the time Gamato was sent again, Albus had managed to get his hands on another pair of linked mirrors, and thus one was sent to be given to Orochimaru. It was a few days later that Iruka received an urgent summons to the Headmaster's office, arriving to find his employer conversing warily with the snake sage. Startlingly, Orochimaru was actually speaking English, albeit with a very noticeable accent. Learning an entirely new language solely from written materials in such a short amount of time showed that the man's "genius" label was well-deserved in fields beyond ninjutsu.

"Ah, Iruka-kun," the pale shinobi greeted through the mirror, "such a fascinating world you've stumbled into! So many intriguing new jutsu to learn about, new species to investigate, new tools and medicines to experiment with... why, one might almost think you were trying to keep me occupied!" Neither of those physically present in the office believed they'd successfully hidden their winces at that. "Kukukuku..." Orochimaru _had_ to know how creepy that chuckle was, right? "In any event, Dumbledore-sensei has been carefully speaking around precisely what you've encountered that's made you desperate enough to seek out my help. Naruto-kun shared some information with me - that you're dealing with an adversary not entirely unlike me, though lacking in any sort of real curiosity or creativity, and that he's done some very naughty things trying to avoid death."

"Still," the Sannin mused, "that alone is hardly enough of a crisis to prompt this response. My... former _colleagues_ in Akatsuki certainly gave the Hidden Villages plenty of practice in dealing with would-be immortals. I have no doubt that you'd be able to handle that without resorting to calling in scary old me. So, what could make you so desperate? He's targeting your student, which certainly makes the matter more immediately urgent, but no, that's not enough either. But this student, this Harry Potter, this 'Boy-Who-Lived'," he spoke the phrase mockingly, "he has a scar from a jutsu that normally kills without leaving a mark, a scar that your reports say pains him in response to that pretentious fool Voldemort. There is some sort of connection between the two of them, obviously, and even someone far less intelligent than yourselves would have noticed the similarity to my old curse marks."

Orochimaru paused for a moment as his grin widened farther than should have been possible on a human face. "He has become an anchor for this Riddle, one that must be removed in order to put the man down permanently. Thus, you seek the help of the only expert in such matters that you could call upon, in hopes of removing the anchor from your precious student in a non-fatal way. Am I close?" he asked facetiously. Albus and Iruka both scowled angrily. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be happy to help you with this; it's really quite an interesting problem, and I'm eager to see how Riddle's methods differ from those I've worked with. There's also the fact that such a crass, inferior copy of me is simply too insulting to tolerate. If it weren't for the slight issue of transportation, I'd be glad to bring the fool here for _extensive_ study..." Both wizards shuddered.

"Do you think the **Fūja Hōin** would work to block out the connection?" Iruka asked.

"I would presume so," the ophidian ninja replied, "though I would obviously need to examine him in person for even a chance at certainty. You've been speaking with Kakashi-kun, I take it?"

Iruka nodded. "It's a much more complex seal than I'm used to working with, so it's taking some time to learn it properly."

"One should never stop learning," Orochimaru stated sagely. "After all, if you're not learning, you're not growing, and if you're not growing, you might as well be dead. And speaking of growth and change, I look forward to the time when goods and people can travel more freely between our two worlds. This long peace allowed some growth and change at first, but in recent years things have started to get far too static for my tastes. It should be wonderfully entertaining to see the effects of a widespread introduction of magic into the society and economy of the Elemental Nations..."

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

One evening in early August, Iruka answered a knock on the door to his quarters. "Madam Bones?" The DMLE Director was standing outside with Aurors Shacklebolt and Dawlish. "What's happened?"

"Professor Umino," she replied in a formal, professional tone, "please come with us. There's been an... incident, and I need you to answer a few questions back at the Ministry."

"Of course, Madam Bones. Just let me leave a note in case anyone comes looking for me."

She nodded, but Iruka noted the fact that Dawlish 'casually' leaned into the room to stare intently at the brief note he was scribbling out, and wore a somewhat sour expression briefly afterward. The chuunin also noted the fact that both Aurors moved to flank him as he followed their boss to the edge of the wards to Portkey back to the Ministry. Their positioning, behind him and to either side, told him that for some reason he was being treated as a dangerous individual, possibly a suspect in whatever this "incident" was.

He was led to what could only be an "interview" room. The details were different from what one would find in a Hidden Village, mostly in terms of construction (stout wooden furniture instead of steel, for example) and the lack of such modern technology as closed-circuit video cameras and electric lights, but the overall form and purpose of the room was unmistakable. All sound from outside cut off abruptly the moment the door closed. Madam Bones sat down across from him, with the two Aurors having taken up positions to either side of the door. With practiced efficiency she soon had a Dicta-Quill recording their words, starting with the opening formalities. Iruka noted that he was described as a "person of interest" and that whatever had prompted this interview was referred to only by its case number.

After some basic identification questions like name, residence, and profession, the first thing the DMLE Director asked was, "Can anyone speak as to your whereabouts this afternoon?".

Iruka shook his head. "No, I've been in either my quarters or my office pretty much all day. Other than house-elves, who I'm guessing aren't considered valid witnesses, I haven't seen anyone since breakfast. Well, not until you and your Aurors came at least."

"So you haven't left the castle at all?"

"Not today." Iruka thought for a moment. "If you need to confirm that, you might try asking the portraits. Going pretty much anywhere in the castle I'd have had to walk past quite a few of them, no matter what door or passage I wanted to take." He could of course have simply opened a window and walked down the outside of the castle wall, and any witch or wizard could have flown out on a broom, but he didn't think this would be helpful to point out.

The brief flicker of a dry expression on Madam Bones's face suggested that she was thinking along similar lines, but she still nodded towards someone not visible from within the room before continuing. "May I check your wand to see which spells you have recently cast?"

"Of course," Iruka nodded and handed over his wand. Auror Dawlish seemed surprised at the ease with which he complied with the request; the man seemed to consider Iruka more of a suspect than a person of interest. Then again, maybe it was just the fact that most witches and wizards were very careful about retaining their wands: For them, a wand was their only truly effective means of self-defense, so relinquishing it would leave one very vulnerable. Needless to say, Iruka didn't have such a problem.

The DMLE head performed the spell to check Iruka's wand, and spoke for the Dicta-Quill the list of minor utility charms that resulted. "I should note," she stated, "for the record, that none of these spells were detected at any point today in the vicinity of the scene of the crime, and that none of the spells which _were_ detected are registering as having been cast recently by this wand." She sighed, briefly massaging the bridge of her nose, before motioning to Auror Shacklebolt.

The Auror in question stepped out of the room for a few moments, returning with a satchel made from some kind of silver-green lizardskin. He handed the bag to Madam Bones, who reached farther in than the bag's size should have allowed to pull out an iron lockbox slightly larger than a brick. She placed the box in her lap under the table, unlocking it by some method Iruka couldn't see while reciting an evidence number for the record, then set it on the table and opened the lid. Turning the box around to face Iruka she asked, "Professor Umino, do you recognize this item?"

Iruka answered honestly. "It looks like a sealing tag." He looked closer. "It's... wrong, though."

"Wrong?" she prodded, "Wrong how?"

"It's the right size and shape," he explained, "and the markings are very similar to sealing work, but that's not a seal. The brush strokes are sloppy, suggesting that whoever made this hasn't had much practice at brush calligraphy, and much of the design isn't even made up of correct, recognizable characters. Overall, it looks like somebody that didn't know anything about seals tried to create one, or at least tried to create a fake. The closest analogy I can think of would be a supposed runestone engraved by someone that knew nothing about runic magic - the carving technique would be wrong, many of the symbols wouldn't be proper runes, and those that were would make useless gibberish unless they got profoundly lucky or profoundly _un_lucky."

"So your expert assessment is that this slip of paper is an attempt by an untrained party to create either a working seal or a fake seal?" Madam Bones clarified.

"That's right," the chuunin confirmed, "though I have no way of telling which of those was their intent, nor what their underlying reason for making it was, except to guess that it was somehow connected to a crime you're investigating."

The DMLE Director gave him a 'don't be a smartarse' glare. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Iruka shrugged. "I can't tell whether the paper and ink are suitable for sealing just at a glance; that would take tests that would damage your evidence. Even if they are suitable, though, this tag wouldn't do anything. The design is so completely wrong that it wouldn't even burn out or fail - it doesn't even have any charging or activation array."

Madam Bones nodded. "Very well then," she stated, "thank you for your time and your cooperation in this matter. Interview ends." She stood, motioning for Iruka to do the same. "You're free to head back to Hogwarts," she said somewhat less formally. "Auror Shacklebolt will show you back to the Atrium."

"Thank you, Madam Bones, Auror Shacklebolt," Iruka replied, nodding to the two of them before pausing. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it that's happened?"

She sighed. "Earlier this afternoon, multiple spells were detected in a Muggle area in Surrey. When Ministry personnel arrived, they found a house had been magically sealed and burned. It was Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging."

An icy hand grabbed Iruka's stomach. "Was anyone..."

Madam Bones nodded somberly. "After the fire was put out, the remains of two adults were found inside. I've already handled the necessary notification."

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

Upon returning to Hogwarts Iruka headed straight to his office, passing several DMLE investigators on the way. Once inside, he promptly jotted down a pair of notes then called for Dobby. The little elf was again oddly dressed (at least for a house-elf), again in clothing sized for a child, this time in a wine-colored shirt and black trousers under a black leather jacket, although still with the one ragged sock on his otherwise bare feet.

"Dobby, I need you to take this first note to Sirius Black, then take this second note to Wendell Granger and wait to see if he wants to reply."

"Dobby can do," the elf nodded, taking the notes and vanishing with a crack. After a couple minutes of tense waiting, he returned. "Mister Granger sir be asking Professor Umino sir to come."

The chuunin nodded his thanks before once again hustling out beyond the wardline to Apparate near the Granger home. The door was swiftly answered by a somber-looking Wendell Granger. "Thanks for coming," the dentist said as he beckoned Iruka inside, "the ladies are with Harry right now. What happened to his relatives really hit him hard. I'm pretty useless at this; best I can do is mostly stand there being quietly supportive, and I hate seeing him in pain like this and not being able to help."

Iruka halted them briefly, asking quietly, "What's his reaction been like?"

"Not good." Wendell shook his head sadly. "He's never really opened up to us that much about how exactly they treated him, but as medical professionals we both had the training to spot signs of abuse, so we know that the Dursleys were definitely not nice people. Even so, Harry still must have held at least a bit of familial affection for them, even if it was one-sided; he's a boy with a lot of love to give. Beyond that, it's never pleasant to hear of the death of somebody you know, even if you didn't particularly like them."

Mr. Granger paused in thought for a moment before continuing. "There's something more to it, though: Half of what he's been saying has been attempts to blame himself for what happened. Monica and Hermione seem to be getting through to him on that, but it's slow going. I was hoping that if nothing else your greater knowledge of what Harry went through there might help."

Iruka frowned, nodding. "While he was there, the Dursleys would blame, berate, and often punish Harry for anything that went wrong and even for imagined or contrived problems. His cousin would break whatever expensive toy his parents had given him lately, and then tell them it was Harry that did it. Harry did better than Dudley in class; he'd get punished for cheating or for sabotaging his cousin. Vernon failed to close a deal at work; he'd come home angry and lay the blame at Harry's feet somehow. Attempts to protest his innocence only led to more punishments. They spent a decade conditioning him to accept responsibility for every bad thing in their lives, and four years of amateur therapy isn't going to undo that. Throw in the way the wizards have heaped their expectations of a heroic savior and protector on him, well..."

Wendell's expression darkened further. "Yeah, that tracks with what he's been saying. It started out as 'It's all my fault' and when Hermione tried to apply logic and ask how somebody else's actions could possibly be his fault it shifted to 'They were attacked because of me' and 'I should have been there to protect them.' The last half hour has been a tag-team effort with Monica being comforting and reassuring while Hermione lectures him on all the ways he had nothing to do with this attack."

That prompted a maudlin chuckle from the chuunin. "Sounds like Hermione, all right. Give her enough time and she'll probably have him too cowed to feel guilty. Anyway, let's go; I can think of at least one thing that might help."

Harry looked, to exactly nobody's surprise, utterly miserable. His eyes were red and puffy, his skin pale, his hair even more disheveled than usual. He was seated on the living room sofa between the two Granger females, Monica's arm over his shoulders while Hermione held his hands in hers. As the two men walked in walked in they caught the tail end of the teen's assertion, "-have been attacked if it weren't for me! You can't say it's just a coincidence that the first people killed after Voldemort came back were my relatives!"

Iruka strode over, quickly kneeling in front of his student to make sure the boy locked eyes with him before speaking. "Harry, look at me. I don't know if you were told about this but the Aurors found fake sealing tags at the scene. To me, that seems like whoever did this wanted me blamed. Does that mean it's my fault the attack happened, because somebody wanted to get at me?"

The young wizard's morose expression took on hints of indignation and confusion. "Of course not! But-"

"Then how could it be your fault, even if the goal was partially to hurt you?"

Harry shook his head. "I should have been there, done something to protect them, maybe have Madam Bones put wards there like she did here."

"And you think Vernon or Petunia would have wanted magic used on their property?" Iruka countered, "Even if it was to protect them?" Harry shrugged noncommittally. "Of course they wouldn't. Headmaster Dumbledore actually _did_ put wards up, strong ones tied to your lingering protection against Voldemort, and the Dursleys knew about this. Vernon and Petunia knew that having you in their home protected them, and look at how they treated you in spite of that: They made you as miserable as they could manage without needing to put physical effort into it. Their every word and action made it clear that you were unwanted. It may sound callous, but they _chose_ to be unprotected."

"It's the eternal question of whether to force people to accept safety measures they don't like," Wendell commented, "things like whether motorists should be required to wear safety belts. Almost everything that makes people safer also imposes some kind of burden, even if it's a tiny one." He winced at the glares sent his way by his wife and daughter. "Okay, not the best possible phrasing under the circumstances, but still. People like to be safe, but there's generally a tradeoff of some sort, and some people won't consider that tradeoff to be worthwhile. In this case, that tradeoff was the reminder of magic's existence and being expected to treat their nephew with common human decency. As we found out a couple of years ago, the Dursleys preferred the risk."

"That's not to say that everyone should just throw off whatever safety measures they don't like," Monica interjected firmly, "but at the same time those measures can't be allowed to get too restrictive either."

"'Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.'" Hermione recited, "Benjamin Franklin."

Wendell nodded. "That's a common argument, though people haven't exactly come to a consensus on where the line is drawn. Go too far one way and you get a dictatorship, too far the other and you get anarchy."

"_Anyway_," Monica cut in again, "putting that centuries-old political lightning rod aside, in between those two extremes you get some required safety measures and some optional ones. People have the freedom to choose whether the protection they'd get is worth whatever the drawbacks are."

"Either way, though," Wendell continued, showing clearly where Hermione got her tendency to lecture, "they have to deal with the consequences. If they choose safety, they have to deal with its cost. If they choose not to pay that cost, they have to accept the risk that comes with that decision. When Vernon and Petunia Dursley chose to treat you so monstrously badly and to give away custody, they also chose to take the risk that something like this would happen someday. Whether they were thinking about that, or if they were in denial about the risk, it's irrelevant in the end. The fact is that if they'd treated you like family, it's quite possible that they'd be completely unhurt right now. They didn't, and so they aren't. That was _their_ choice, _not_ yours. You chose to escape a situation that was putting your life and health at risk; at no point were you under any obligation to consider the safety of the very threats you were escaping."

Harry had been, if not brightening, then at least distracted by the philosophical discussion (which looked like it was somewhat intentional on the adult Grangers' part). The reminder of the day's events brought him down again, but he did seem at least a bit less weighed-down than before. By the time Iruka left over an hour later, Harry was certainly not back to his usual self - that would have taken a small miracle - but at least he was on the mend.

Hermione, too, was more somber than usual; this incident had demonstrated all too clearly the danger that now hung over all of their heads. This wasn't just some remote, abstract, or theoretical conflict, but a very real and immediate struggle against vicious enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect Orochimaru to get that chatty.
> 
> The first two scenes were originally part of the previous chapter, before I realized partway through writing this one that the Order should have already started meeting. The meeting scene I wrote ran away from me a bit, so I bumped everything after it into the start of this chapter.
> 
> How do you investigate a crime when the only expert available on key evidence is a suspect?
> 
> No, the satchel is not dragonhide, Iruka would recognize that by now. It's mokeskin, as a simple way to make it hard to access the evidence inside without authorization.
> 
> Also, wow, one of my readers is incredibly observant, and managed to spot a running gag that I've tried to subtly include. Kudos to Trace Reading over on ffnet!
> 
> Writing is grinding slowly ahead, but hopefully once I get through the arc I'm on things will speed up substantially through the end of the story.


	2. Troubles

It was the third Friday of August when Iruka brought Harry back to Hogwarts, reassuring the Grangers before departing that he'd have Harry back to them safe and sound by Monday. Hermione and Monica speared him with matching "you'd better" glares, to Wendell's amused approval.

They made their way up to the Room of Requirement, Harry holding himself resolute in spite of his obvious nerves. The Room itself was being held open by Albus and Madam Pomfrey, both of whom were seated in an entry room that looked much like a small infirmary, with only two beds and a few moveable privacy screens. Through the door on the far side was a sealing chamber suitable for the **Fūja Hōin**, with as much preliminary work as possible already in place. It had taken Iruka the entirety of the morning to meticulously scribe thousands of characters in his own blood, with the Sixth Hokage inspecting his work as he went through a mirror held by a fascinated Albus. The chuunin had fortified himself with a Blood-Replenishing Potion before retrieving Harry, knowing he'd need his strength for the final step and that there was still more bleeding to be done.

"Okay, Harry," he said in his best reassuring voice, "first off you'll need to take off at least your shirt. Given how I'm going to have to be drawing symbols all over the place, you may want to take off or change out of anything else you don't want to risk getting stained; there's some shorts in the screened-off area over there." Harry gave a nod and headed behind the privacy screens. "Once you're ready, I'm afraid we're going to have to shave your head. Don't worry, though - once the seal is in place and you've recovered from the procedure, we've got a bit of Hair-Growth Potion you can sip at. The results won't be particularly neat or styled, but that's not really all that different from usual, right?" His joke was responded to with a high, arcing throw of a balled-up dirty sock that was surprisingly close to hitting for a blind shot.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'll have you sit at the center of the sealing diagram, then finish drawing in the remainder of the necessary symbols. You'll need to sit still for that, especially when I'm drawing on you. Rokudaime-sama will be double-checking my work-"

"_Yo!_" Hatake Kakashi cut in with his usual bland tone and jaunty wave through the two-way mirror, even if only Iruka was in position to see the wave.

"-so no worries on that front. After that comes the sealing itself, which unfortunately is probably going to hurt quite a bit, and once it's finished you'll be really tired as well. We've got Madam Pomfrey here to check you over, make sure everything's okay, all that. You'll probably just have to spend a couple days in the Hospital Wing before we can get you back home."

"Oh joy," deadpanned Harry as he walked somewhat sullenly out from behind the privacy screens, "I _love_ spending time in the Hospital Wing - it's why I'm there so frequently, you know?" He got a sudden nervous look on his face. "Uh, nothing against you of course, Madam Pomfrey..." The round of laughter that followed received the kind of scowling pout that only a teenager can manage.

**-――――===ͽ ᛋ ͼ===――――-**

Harry tried his best to keep still as Iruka-sensei painted long strings of symbols from his forehead, across his face and scalp, down his neck and torso, and finally crossing his shorts-clad thighs and onto the floor. His backside was starting to go numb from sitting on bare stone for so long, though he was thankful that at least they were doing this in the summer where the coolness of the stone and his lack of a shirt were reasonably comfortable. Even with magic, a millennium-old stone castle in the Scottish Highlands was not a warm place in the winter. Then again, either Iruka-sensei or the Room itself would probably find some way to keep things from getting too cold, if only to stop him shivering and messing up the sealing work.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. It was one of the first calming exercises Iruka-sensei had taught him on the road to learning how to meditate, and oh boy did he ever need to keep calm right now. Ignore the hard floor, the muscles getting ready to cramp from sitting uncomfortably still for over half an hour. Don't pay any attention to the Headmaster standing right there holding up a two-way mirror so that a former Hokage could closely inspect the characters being drawn on Harry's bare skin. Try not to think about how those characters were being drawn in blood running from a fresh cut on Iruka-sensei's palm. _Definitely_ don't wonder and worry about how much this was going to hurt.

**-――――===ͽ Δ ͼ===――――-**

Once the former Hokage had affirmed the last of Iruka's work, Albus carried the mirror out to the entry area to stand with a frowning Poppy. He took great care to avoid disturbing any of the characters scribed on the floor or any of the kunai that had been stabbed into it at various locations.

"I still don't like this, Albus," Poppy whispered to him, "strange blood magic that Professor Umino hasn't even done before, and he's making his first attempt on a student!"

"_Maa, maa,_" Mr. Hatake placated from the mirror, continuing in accented English, "_it'll be fine. This may be Iruka's first time applying this seal, but I've done it myself in the past, and he's had me checking over all his work. Have a little confidence in him!_"

By this point, Iruka had finished doing his own final check-over of everything, and stepped around in front of Harry. The ninja-professor pulled a small dark pill from the pouch at his hip, crushing it between his teeth and swallowing. From what Albus understood, this was a "soldier pill", sort of the shinobi equivalent of a Pepper-Up Potion, and Iruka was using it here to temporarily boost his reserves of chakra in order to ensure that he would be able to complete the sealing procedure. Of course, as with Pepper-Up it essentially borrowed some stamina from the future, meaning that when that debt came due the fatigue would be severe.

Taking a deep breath, the dimensionally-displaced teacher brought his hands together, flashing through a sequence of hand-signs with a speed and precision that spoke of long practice. After the last sign, Iruka reached out and placed his right hand on Harry's forehead, right on his famous scar, and intoned, "**Fūja Hōin**!"

Harry tensed immediately and gave a pained grunt, his muscles taut and his fists and jaw clenched, as a white light began to shine out from under Iruka's palm. The lines of sealing script around the two actually lifted away from the surfaces they were written on, flowing inward towards the seal's focal point on Harry's head with a somewhat unnerving crawling sort of motion. As the lines drew in, the teen let out a low groan, before finally the last of the symbols vanished under Iruka's hand and the light faded.

Teacher and student were both sweaty and panting with exhaustion as Iruka stepped back, his arm falling to his side. He was forced to step forward again in a hurry to catch Harry as the boy slumped over, clearly unconscious.

"Done," Iruka breathed, nodding to Albus, Poppy, and Mr. Hatake.

Albus motioned Poppy forward, and the matron needed no further invitation to swiftly make her way over to the two in the sealing chamber. She helped Iruka lay Harry flat on his back, mending the former's palm with a quick spell before casting diagnostics over both teacher and student. The Headmaster followed, holding the mirror so that the Lord Sixth could see the mark on Harry's face.

As Iruka had described, the seal took the form of a circle just wide enough to encompass the scar, with six short spokes radiating out at regular intervals. The entire figure was made up of what looked to Albus's eyes like nothing more than unintelligible scribbles, but must have meant something to the former Hokage gazing through the mirror. "_Looks fine to me,_" the ninja commented, "_good job Iruka._"

"Thanks," Iruka replied, "though we should probably head to the Hospital Wing before I have to be levitated there. I have a very important date with a pillow and forty - actually better make that at least sixty or eighty winks."

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

Iruka woke, groggy and sore, close to noon the next morning. Soldier pills were useful, no question about that, but the aftereffects were definitely not fun. Judging by the aches, he suspected that he'd managed to add in at least a mild case of chakra exhaustion as well.

Contrary to his predictions, Harry remained deeply asleep throughout the weekend and beyond. Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis of severe physical and magical (and, Iruka suspected chakra) exhaustion only mollified the Grangers slightly, as did Albus's assurances that he could detect no complications from Harry's scar. None of this stopped Hermione from giving her teacher the stink-eye every time he visited to update the family on their ward's condition.

Harry finally rejoined the world of the living on Tuesday afternoon, announcing his return with a weak groan. Since it was his shift to sit at the teen's bedside, Iruka was the first to react, though Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office moments later, bustling over and checking over her patient. Seemingly satisfied that everything was as it should be, she handed Harry a goblet of water from the pitcher at his bedside table. "Slow and easy, Mister Potter," she said soothingly, before adopting a small sardonic grin, "just in case you've forgotten after all your previous times waking up in here."

"At least this was a planned visit," he croaked defensively in between greedy sips.

"That's true, for what it's worth," he matron sighed. "You're still showing signs of acute exhaustion, so I'll be keeping you here at least another day or two. Now, are you in any pain?" Harry nodded. "How bad?"

"On a scale from 'stubbed toe' to 'Voldemort's Cruciatus'?" The teen shrugged in the way that only teenaged boys can, ignoring the Mediwitch's cringe at either the name or the reminder of his recent experience with that curse. "I'd rate it around 'trampled by two and a half hippogriffs'."

"From what Rokudaime-sama told me, that's not unexpected," Iruka cut in as he saw the healer fix her patient with a gimlet stare for his flippancy, "though I'm surprised you haven't already asked if it worked."

Harry shook his head slightly. "It worked, or at least I'm pretty sure it did. I feel... lighter, I guess? I'd been feeling angry a lot, more than usual, and I even snapped at Hermione over something stupid last week. But I don't feel like that now, I feel calmer, more clear-headed. It's like, you know how your head gets kinda foggy when you're really tired, or how you get really annoyed at people for no reason? It's like a bit of that my whole life until now, and I didn't even realize it because it was always there but now that it's gone I can feel a difference."

Iruka smiled in relief. "That's wonderful to hear, though I don't think any of your Professors will be willing to accept that as an excuse to raise your marks."

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

Eventually Harry was recovered enough that Madam Pomfrey was willing to send him home provided he continued to rest and avoid strenuous activity, something the teen was happy to promise. Before he left, he'd had his hair regrown (and then cut back to its usual length) and Iruka had applied some Muggle concealer to do as its name suggested for the marks from the seal. While not magical in origin, the makeup had been charmed to perfectly match Harry's skin tone and to resist washing or rubbing off unless a countercharm was performed first.

**Λ**   
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** V**

The rest of the summer holidays mostly passed in that curious mix of dread and tedium that almost leaves a person eager for whatever unpleasantness they know is coming, just to get it _over with_ already. All the while, the Order and their allies continued their preparations for the inevitable conflict, while Snape reported the Death Eaters doing the same.

Madam Bones's investigation into the Dursleys' deaths stalled out, with Iruka more-or-less cleared and no other leads unless some new evidence turned up. Dudley Dursley had passed to the custody of his aunt Marge, Vernon's sister, who Harry's accounts indicated was possibly an even worse human being than her late brother. An aging, alcoholic spinster who occupied herself breeding and training bulldogs to be as vicious as possible, it was likely that the rotund boy's days of being endlessly pampered were very much at an end. Iruka asked Madam Bones to pass word to her Muggle counterparts to keep half an eye on that situation; Dudley may have bullied Harry in the past, but he'd been (and still was) just a child shaped by his parents, and Iruka's conscience wouldn't let him stand by and do nothing if a child might be headed for an abusive home. No word had come back on that warning, but the chuunin felt he'd at least done what he reasonably could while focusing his attention on the more immediate threat.

Near the end of August, however, Iruka and several other staff members were called to the Headmaster's office to discuss the latest development.

"I have no doubt that Cornelius believes that he is being helpful," Albus stated wearily, "and Dolores Umbridge _does_ possess a N.E.W.T. in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but still..."

"But still that odious witch is going to be spending this coming year teaching young, impressionable, _vulnerable_ students." Minerva wasn't exactly the jolliest of people, but her expression now was even more dour than that often worn by Professor Snape. Said Potions instructor was in an even fouler mood than usual, and even the friendly and jovial Filius Flitwick was looking uncommonly serious.

"Just from what I've heard of the bills she's written and laws she's gotten passed," Iruka chimed in, "I'd be worried, and what I've seen of her in person has definitely not helped."

"Lucius Malfoy considers her a useful ally in the Ministry," Snape offered coolly, "and she has hardly made any secret of her support for the blood-purist cause, but to my knowledge she is not a direct supporter of the Dark Lord, and almost certainly not one of his Marked followers. Even so, we may assume that she will not be a deviation from the usual parade of incompetent and ineffective Defense Professors, though we may also take solace in the fact that we shall only have to deal with her _delightful_ personality for a single school year at most. With some luck, whatever inevitable misfortune removes her from Hogwarts will also diminish or eliminate her influence in the Ministry."

**Λ**   
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** V**

The day after Minister Fudge appointed his Senior Undersecretary to the Defense post, another blow struck: Sturgis Podmore, a member of the Order, was arrested for trying to break into the Department of Mysteries during what was supposed to be his guard shift. He would later refuse to speak in his own defense at trial, and be sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

"I believe that Sturgis's crime may have been committed at the behest of another," Albus said when Iruka brought the matter up, "most likely thanks to the Imperius Curse or other coercion."

"Whether coerced or not, it's exposed a problem," Iruka pointed out. "We have to assume that the presence of the Order's guard is now known to the Death Eaters. If they've got any sense at all they'll take it into account in any further attempts, and we need to prepare for that."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "What do you propose?"

"Well, the most obvious precaution would be to put more than one person on each guard shift. That way, if one is compromised, the others can stop them before things get out of hand, and they present a greater threat to a force of intruders than a lone wizard would. One guard is fine if all they have to do is watch and raise an alarm, assuming they'll be _able_ to raise that alarm if whatever they're watching for happens - a secret sentry, basically. Now that our sentry is no longer secret, it'd be too easy for an intruder to silence them, possibly permanently. Since the guards can't rely on surprise any more, the next best bet is to make sure that there's enough of a guard force on hand to turn any attempt to slip past into a long, _noisy_ fight. They don't have to be able to win, per se, just keep the attackers busy long enough for backup to arrive. Any intruder that sees that, unless they can sneak past undetected, they'll abort the attempt if they're smart."

Albus frowned, stroking his beard. "That might work, but I fear that we currently lack the manpower necessary to reinforce the guard rotation. We are already spread problematically thin as is."

"Could Madam Bones help? Maybe people from the Ministry could be the extra wands on guard, or take over tasks currently being done by Order members to free them up for guard duty. Now that we know the guards aren't a secret, it wouldn't tip our hand too badly to bring in Ministry personnel."

"That could work," the Headmaster nodded. "It is hardly a perfect solution, but then most solutions are similarly imperfect, aren't they?"

"It won't work forever," Iruka noted, "but it should hold until the Death Eaters start to get desperate for whatever they're trying to reach in there. Once Riddle's demand for whatever he's looking for outweighs his fear of discovery, he'll either send a large force of Death Eaters or go in person, and I really doubt we can guard and fortify a Ministry corridor enough to withstand that kind of assault. I don't know if the Ministry's wards would allow outgoing Portkeys, but some way of getting out in a hurry or at least calling for help in an emergency could save whoever's on guard duty if something like that happens."

Albus thought for a moment, frowning. "I find that I hadn't properly considered the possibility of a situation arising that would necessitate such measures, but upon reflection I agree that some method of escaping or raising an alarm could prove vital. The Ministry's wards are indeed likely to interdict any portkeys, but there are a number of possible means by which a signal could be sent."

"Reliability is obviously the top priority," the chuunin mused, "followed by speed. The simpler and easier the method is for the sender, the better, even if that restricts it to a pre-arranged signal rather than a chosen message. Beyond that, it might also be helpful if whatever method you pick is less than obvious, so whoever's trying to break in doesn't know that the alarm's been raised unless the guards want them to, but that'd be more of a bonus than an essential feature."

Dumbledore nodded. "That makes a great deal of sense, and narrows the field down to a handful of choices. The first to come to mind is the Protean Charm..."

**Λ**   
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** V**

Headmaster Dumbledore had barely opened the final pre-term staff meeting when trouble reared her ugly head.

"Hem hem."

Albus blinked in apparent bewilderment. "Is everything all right, Dolores?"

"Headmaster," the pink-clad witch simpered, "I would like to know what that _arsonist_ is doing here." She pointed one stubby finger in Iruka's direction, saccharine smile not even close to reaching her eyes. "Why has he not yet been dismissed? Was it not already enough for him to hurt one innocent child two years ago, and now to use his foreign magics in a Muggle area? Must we wait for him to attack or corrupt even more children?"

"Calm yourself, Dolores," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Professor Umino was cleared of any involvement in that tragic attack in Surrey. As for the incident with Shore Pibald, that accident occurred precisely because the young man in question disobeyed a basic safety instruction. He was, of course, promptly banned from Sealing classes and all of his materials related to that field were confiscated. Really, it was no different from if a child chose to attempt to illicitly brew a potion that was beyond their current skills, or to cast a dangerous spell without proper supervision. It is in the nature of teenagers to push the boundaries which we, as adults, have set for their own safety." Iruka kept his face carefully blank at this last statement, thinking back to his first year teaching at Hogwarts.

Umbridge harrumphed at that, but subsided. She did continue to make a nuisance of herself a few other times, particularly in questioning Hagrid's qualifications, suitability, and safety as a Professor.

It seemed that, inside the castle as well as out, this was going to be a long year.

* * *

**Semi-Omake!**

Malfoy and his shaved gorillas were just leaving their compartment, having delivered the usual round of insults and threats mixed with a bit of what Draco probably thought was witty innuendo about Voldemort's return but was really just more of the same threats, but more smug. Luna got a look in her eyes that Harry had only previously seen on Sirius and the Weasley Twins, smirking a little as she leaned out the still-open door and pointed her wand down the corridor before twirling it in a figure-eight pattern that hurt his eyes a little to look at and incanting something in a sing-song whisper.

"Luna," Hermione said warningly as their friend closed the door and returned to her seat, "what did you just do? I'd really rather not have my first act as a Prefect be to take points from one of my best friends."

"It's just a harmless little charm I made with Mummy's help," the blonde said with an innocent smile. "I thought Draco could stand to broaden his horizons a little, learn something new."

"Luna..."

"Have you ever gotten a song stuck in your head?" The other four nodded. After three years, the other members of S.E.N. were at least starting to get used to the Ravenclaw's occasional seemingly-random tangents. They'd learned that it was best to humor her so that she'd find her way back to the topic at hand as soon as possible and hopefully make sense of her earlier non sequitur. "Now Draco has one," she explained before singing in a clear voice, "I'm a little teapot, short-" she cut off so abruptly it was almost a physical jerk, and her grin broadened. "That's what he'll be hearing, over and over again, until he sings the entire line out loud. Of course, since he's only hearing part of it, and it's a Muggle song..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying out a slightly tweaked scene divider for Dumbledore, using a capital Delta because there's no easy way to put the symbol of the Hallows in text.
> 
> I actually had to rearrange a bunch of scenes after I realized that I'd put a bunch of events in the summer after Umbridge's appointment and Podmore's arrest, which happen at the very end of August. Hopefully now the timeline actually tracks properly.
> 
> And yeah, term hasn't even started yet and the Toad has already started causing trouble. I've written her as actually being qualified rather than being useless at defensive magic because we see her maintaining a full Patronus when running the Muggle-Born Registration Commision. Also, as much as I love the fanon of Blood Quills being something normally used for signing binding contracts or the like, according to Rowling those quills were Ubridge's own invention.
> 
> The semi-omake can be taken as part of the story or not, it really doesn't affect anything either way. I just had the idea for that charm, and Luna was the perfect person to cast it and Draco the perfect target. What makes it so nasty is that music almost always goes through a cycle of building and releasing tension, and Luna cut the line right around where the tension was built highest with no release - it's completely unsatisfying, and now it's stuck in Draco's head.
> 
> Writing progress remains slow. I'm still in the final battle with all its difficulty and complexity, plus this past week has had holiday visits to family (and, admittedly, me playing lots of DDO).


	3. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined portions are from Chapter Eleven of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I've broken the underline on words that are part of the canon text, but have some added emphasis.

The Sorting Hat sang a new song each year, but beyond just the stanzas describing the four Houses it rarely had anything else to sing about. This year, though, it coupled that explanation to a summary of the strife between the Founders and the reasons behind the House system and the rivalries it had spawned, before closing with a stern admonition that the school needed to pull together regardless of which color ties people wore.

Many of the students seemed confused, even mildly worried by this message, while those who were more aware of what was truly going on were largely divided in their reactions based upon which side they favored: Those Order and S.E.N. members in the school largely wore expressions of grim approval, while the children of Death Eaters and their allies sneered or scoffed in smug derision. Dolores Umbridge, meanwhile, was glaring at the Sorting Hat with a look suggesting that Albus would be subjected to a complaint about the Hat or its song as soon as she could bend his ear.

After the Sorting and the meal that followed, the Headmaster stood to give his usual start-of-term announcements. He'd managed to make it as far as Quidditch try-outs when a voice that Iruka was _already_ sick of interrupted.

"Hem, hem."

Albus calmly sat, actually managing to act as if this was totally normal and as if he was genuinely eager to hear what the bigoted witch had to say.

The speech that followed was long, tedious, and more than a little unsettling. Umbridge started out poorly, her patronizing tone treating her audience as if they were about a decade younger than their real ages. She then ran through a round of politician-style back-patting towards herself, the Ministry, and Hogwarts...

"...The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by _our_ ancestors must be _guarded_, replenished, and polished..."

Then things started to get more worrisome. Phrases like "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged" did not bode well, nor did lines about "preserving and defending the heritage and traditions that set proper British witches and wizards above all others." The bit about being "led astray by undesirable influences" was about as subtle as a bijuu, and had more than one speculative glance aimed Iruka's way. Most of those were from Ravenclaws, since that House contained the greatest number of students able to follow the Ministry toad's speech without being bored into inattention.

One curious line in particular caught Iruka's attention, almost waxing poetic about how "the strong, caring arms of our beloved Ministry of Magic encircle us all." A lot of students, and a couple of staff, clearly struggled to hide their incredulous looks or dismissive snorts.

Eventually, the whole thing concluded on an ominous note of "preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited." Her glance in his direction at the end was blatantly deliberate.

Once the batrachian witch sat back down, Headmaster Dumbledore stood again to finish giving his start-of-term announcements before sending the students off to bed.

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** V**

Term began as usual, the students and staff quickly settling into the routine of life at Hogwarts. Reviews of Dolores Umbridge's classes were mixed, but not nearly as bad as Iruka and others had feared. On the mostly-positive side, she was quite enthusiastic about teaching the students about the dangers of various nonhuman creatures and ways to fight against them. These lessons certainly showed hints of her bigotry against those she deemed "half-breeds" like werewolves and centaurs, but according to Filius and Albus she was at least conveying accurate information about how to defend against various creatures and beings.

Of somewhat more concern was the way she was handling the teaching of defensive magic intended for use against other witches and wizards. Again, the lessons were factual, but she focused exclusively on the context of official duelling. This meant that she marked students down for espousing methods and tactics that would be prudent in any real fight but that would run afoul of any of the strict rules of a formal or competition duel. She also seemed to expect the students to know these rulesets already or learn them on their own time, refusing to "waste precious class time explaining things that any _proper_ witch or wizard would have been taught already." Surprising exactly no one, this meant that students from the most traditional Pureblood families were at a substantial advantage over everyone else in their classes. Within the first week of term Neville had already started a study group, with his friends as the other founding members, where he and a few others like Susan Bones who _had_ grown up learning about such things would help their peers catch up. Filius even visited their meetings when he could to share his own knowledge on the subject, something which certainly didn't endear him to the pink-clad instructor.

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** V**

Near the end of September Iruka was called up to the Headmaster's office, finding it filled not only by its usual occupant (or occupant_s_ if you counted magical birds and animate portraiture and haberdashery) but also Sirius and Remus as well as Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody and William "Bill" Weasley.

"Ah, Iruka," Albus said, "excellent. Now that we are all here, it is my intention to add both William and Alastor here to our little 'scavenger hunt'." Both of the wizards mentioned looked somewhat confused and uncertain (and deeply suspicious, in Moody's case, but that was really his default mode).

Sirius's eyes widened, as Remus's narrowed in thought. Iruka simply nodded. "That makes sense. Both of them are unquestionably against Riddle, we've already trusted Professor Moody with other matters, and from what I know of you Albus you must have no doubts at all about Bill's discretion. Both of them also have skills and experience that'll almost certainly come in handy."

"Handy for _what_, that's what I wanna know." Moody grumbled, his prosthetic eye swiveling wildly around the room.

"An endeavor vital to bringing about a permanent end to Lord Voldemort," Albus explained. "You surely understand that it will likely be both tremendously difficult and extremely dangerous. It also must be kept in absolute secrecy, for if our enemy discovers our intent he will likely be able to counter our efforts beyond any hope of recovery."

"You know I'm in," Bill said. "Even if it weren't for what that bastard's diary did to Ginny, I'd do this because it's the right thing to do. Now maybe you could get around to actually telling us about this mysterious task sometime today?" he asked somewhat acidly, Moody giving a grudging nod of agreement.

"How apt that you bring up that diary," the Headmaster said. "Tell me William, have you ever heard of a cursed artifact known as a Horcrux?"

"Only in passing," the redhead replied with a contemplative frown "some kind of particularly rare and dangerous Dark magic, the kind of thing we're supposed to back off from and call in the rest of our team to handle." His eyes widened in realization. "That diary was..."

Albus nodded gravely. "It was. The first of several made by Tom Riddle, beginning before he even left Hogwarts." He proceeded to give Bill and Moody the same explanation he'd given to Sirius, Remus, and Iruka before. Both new inductees reacted with a combination of outrage and grim disgust.

"Before I tell you of our progress so far in identifying or locating these abominations," the Headmaster continued, "I would like both of you to watch through some memories I've managed to gather and share your own thoughts. It may well be that one or both of you will notice or deduce things which have thus far escaped the four of us."

"Good idea," Iruka said. "We can always compare notes afterwards, but fresh eyes and fresh perspectives are most effective if we don't bias them in advance."

"I take it these memories are why you had me, us probably, clear our schedules for the day?" Moody's organic eye looked warily at the Pensieve on the Headmaster's desk.

"That is correct," Albus acknowledged. "Iruka and I cannot be here the entire day, as we both have duties in the school and our absence might not go unnoticed by those aligned against us. We will return after lunch to discuss what you've seen and your thoughts on what Tom Riddle might have chosen as his Horcruxes and where they might be hidden. Sirius, Remus, might I prevail upon you both to answer their questions and assist them as needed?"

"Of course, Albus," Remus replied.

"Marvelous! Thank you both, and thank you William and Alastor for your assistance in this matter. If any of you have need of refreshments or anything else, simply call for Tappy."

**Λ**   
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** V**

When they all reconvened that afternoon Sirius looked more subdued than before, likely due to the reminder of what he'd seen in Kreacher's memories.

"Most obvious conclusion is that Slughorn's hidin' something," Moody growled out, "but if you needed me to tell you that we're all buggered."

Albus gave his old friend a long-suffering look as several portraits sniffed dismissively. "Really, Alastor, must you be so crude? Of course I am aware that Horace has been less than perfectly forthcoming with me, but thus far my efforts to persuade him to greater openness have not borne fruit."

"How about telling him that the bastard is back," the old Auror suggested, "and might come lookin' to tie up loose ends? Be a lot safer for Slughorn and everybody else if you had the information you needed to put Riddle down for good..."

"Ha!" Sirius barked, "I like it! If there's one thing that'll motivate ol' Sluggy better than anything else, it's his own self-interest. You could even sweeten the pot and offer to put him up here at Hogwarts - no place safer, after all, and we all know he'd never pass up the chance to schmooze with Harry and maybe revive his old 'Slug Club'. Maybe he'd even be willing to take over some of the Potions classes; he'd be loads better than Snivellus, that's for sure."

"Both the carrot and the stick, then..." Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard. "It is certainly worth trying, at the very least, and I dare say that Severus likely wouldn't object to being relieved of the need to teach the younger years should the opportunity arise. Yes, I shall have to speak with Horace very soon, but for now, what did you notice?"

Bill and Moody proceeded to share their observations and conclusions from the memories presented. None of it, unfortunately, contained any new insights, but discussion of the seaside cave sparked Iruka's memory.

"Albus," the chuunin said, "I don't think that we can afford to wait until after Riddle's gone to deal with those Inferi. They represent too much of a potential enemy asset to leave them as they are."

Dumbledore sighed. "You may be right, Iruka, but my points from before still stand. It would be too difficult, too dangerous, too time-consuming, and far too public to attempt to retrieve those bodies for identification and burial."

"I know," Iruka said sadly. "Destroying them, on the other hand..."

Moody scoffed. "You may have some experience as a fighter, Umino, but that many Inferi in one place are _dangerous_. Without being able to Apparate or Portkey out, or hop on a broom, or even open some distance thanks to the tight space, it'd be suicide."

"Being able to fight them from out of reach on brooms would certainly help," the chuunin allowed, "but in this case the cave actually works to our advantage against the Inferi's superior numbers."

The scarred Auror's organic eye widened in realization, even as the prosthetic one scrutinized a patch of wall to his left. "A bottleneck. We stay in the outer portion of the cave and draw 'em out through a narrow choke-point so they can't all reach us at once or surround us, while we can hit 'em with everything we've got."

"Exactly!" Iruka agreed. "They also won't attack except in response to specific triggers, which lets us prepare the battlefield to our liking before the fight starts. A wall of stone spears, or maybe a trench in front of a low rampart, would make it even harder for any that slip through our attacks to actually get close enough to reach anybody. I'm sure we can find someone able to handle such Transfigurations," he said with a wry smile while looking over at Albus, who chuckled. "Ordinarily I'd use explosive notes against them, but in a cave that would be way too risky. Maybe shrink a few casks or barrels filled with flammable oil, to provide some added fuel?"

The meeting rapidly turned into a planning session from there, each member of the group mooting ideas and suggestions and helping refine everyone else's. This expedition would, on top of destroying a potential army of shock troops at Voldemort's disposal, provide the opportunity to practice working together as a group in at least a semi-controlled situation before they had to go up against whatever unknown defenses guarded other Horcruxes.

**Λ**   
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** V**

On the surface, those early months would have seemed like a perfectly normal start-of-term at Hogwarts. To those living in the castle and truly paying attention, however, it was apparent that a subtle tension had begun to build. Much of the student body seemed to understand that some sort of trouble was on the horizon, even if most didn't know what shape it would take.

In a vague echo of several years prior, the more active blood-purist students (particularly those from Death Eater families) were more smug that usual, and had a bit more strut and swagger. This was most apparent in their de facto leader, Draco Malfoy, who'd been making use of his newly-granted Prefect status to aggressively enforce discipline against all those he deemed lesser than himself. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, but in each case he was _technically_ in the right according to the rules, even if the overall pattern was obvious. It wasn't long before several other Slytherin Prefects joined this campaign. Unfortunately, the ultimate arbiter on their positions was Severus Snape, who with Voldemort back couldn't be seen to not favor those aligned with the Dark Lord's cause.

This uneven application of discipline wasn't enough to explain why more and more Muggleborn students began to look increasingly harried, walking on eggshells when outside of their friend groups. No incidents of bullying or other violence had been reported, nor any unusual or suspicious injuries arriving in the Hospital Wing, but something was putting pressure on them.

As the end of October approached, Harry was visibly on edge. This wasn't unreasonable; every year since his return to Magical Britain there'd been _something_ on Halloween to cause him stress. Admittedly, last year it had turned out to be a major positive, but that hadn't been for lack of trying on Voldemort's part. All this stress finally boiled to the surface in Defense class.

"I guess I just snapped," Harry shrugged, speaking with Iruka that weekend. "I mean, Umbridge is bad enough normally. Yeah, she's at least teaching us some useful stuff some of the time, so she's better on that front than Lockhart at least, but she treats us all like we're in primary school! Worse is how much of a bigot she is, always praising the Junior Death Eaters and the other Purebloods, and ignoring or being nasty to everybody else, and whenever we tell her that Professor Lupin already taught us about the creature she's covering, the stuff she says about him, and I've heard about the laws she's pushed through against werewolves and other people. So somebody asked about maybe learning the Patronus Charm, since it's good for defending against Dark creatures and is worth extra credit on our O.W.L.s, and she just scoffs and condescendingly asks why we'd ever need to protect ourselves against Dementors when they're completely under the Ministry's control..."

"And that's when you asked 'So it was the Ministry that tried to kill me twice two years ago?'," Iruka finished.

Harry nodded. "It was out of line a bit, maybe, I can admit that, but the fact that she was just _ignoring_ how the Dementors affected everybody made me so mad, and I couldn't exactly bring up how Voldemort was talking about them switching sides, not with the way we're trying to handle stuff, and I guess it just slipped out. The detentions weren't too bad, at least: Writing lines is boring, and my wrist was starting to cramp up by the end, but Snape and Filch are way worse. The self-inking quill she gave me was probably part of the problem, really, since I just kept writing without the little breaks to dip it in the inkpot."

"What did she have you writing?" the chuunin asked.

"Just 'I must not disrupt lessons' the first night and 'I must respect authority' the second. If that's the worst that I have to deal with for this Halloween, I'll take it and hope next year's no worse."

**Λ**   
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** V**

Hagrid returned to the castle a couple days later looking battered, bruised, and defeated. From his report, he and Madam Maxime had made contact with a large giant colony and convinced their Gurg (the colony's leader) that it would be in their interest to sit out of the coming war. Unfortunately it turned out that the Gurg's rival was far more bellicose; he murdered the Gurg, took over the tribe, and sided with the Death Eaters. The Order's two envoys barely managed to escape with their lives.

Iruka began trying to figure out how best to use his abilities against a giant.

**Λ**  
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V

By early November, the Horcrux-hunting team figured that they were about as prepared as they could be for their planned trip to the seaside. There might have been a bit more room for improvement in their plans, but with the weather getting colder and the fact that they'd have to swim (or at least most of them would) to get in - Albus, Moody, and Bill had surveyed the site already and found a wide-area jinx that would interfere with broom flight - they felt it better to get the job done sooner rather than later.

So it was that four wizards made use of the handholds and footholds carved into the cliff face, while Moody was belayed down by Iruka in consideration of his wooden leg. Once Moody had reached the water, Iruka calmly walked down the vertical surface, deriving a bit of guilty pleasure from the gaping expressions this produced; the others might have been briefed on his abilities, but Albus was still the only one to have seen them first-hand. That awe turned into grumbling envy as he also walked (or occasionally crawled when the passage got tight) on the water's surface.

The sextet gathered in the antechamber, making liberal use of drying and warming spells. After checking that all of their supplies and equipment were ready and in good condition, they began to prepare their battlefield. Albus reshaped the ground in the area around the point on the wall where the gateway to the inner chamber would form, pulling stone from the floor to form a deep pit behind which was a sheer vertical wall that rose over two meters above floor level except at five points, where it was low enough to allow the five wizards to freely cast while having as much protection as possible. The lakeward side of the pit actually formed a ramp back up to ground level at the door, to allow Inferi to flee back into the water and thus relieve the pressure on the defenders. This defensive wall was followed by a low platform that then gradually sloped back down to floor level. The result was almost an inward-facing castle wall in miniature, with a moat and crenellated battlements and with solid walls extending from either end to join up with the cave walls. It enclosed a space that would become their killing ground, allowing for an unusually-literal crossfire against the bunched-up undead while keeping the ends of the barrier angled enough to allow all five to cast through the doorway if needed and to avoid friendly-fire incidents. One final twirl of the Headmaster's wand smoothed everything from the wall's face to the door (excepting the ramp) to a glassy shine in order to minimize the traction available to attacking Inferi.

Bill created a number of hovering globes of pale white light, clearly illuminating their killbox.

Seven wooden barrels were un-shrunk, and the first had its top vanished and the mix of flammable liquids inside dumped in to cover the floor of the pit. The remaining casks were distributed along the rampart, placed to either side of each defender's position. A drain was then opened through the wall in front of each, so that a single quick piercing or cutting spell could add their contents to the pit below without otherwise occupying the neighboring wizard(s). Each of the five then pulled out and donned simple belts festooned with pockets and pouches, giving them quick access to various potentially useful potions and other items. One last bit of Transfiguration by Albus tightened the clothing on their upper bodies enough to leave no dangling fabric that could be easily grabbed. They moved to their stations, with Albus in the center flanked by Moody and Sirius. To Moody's left stood Bill, while Remus anchored the right end of their line.

Iruka, meanwhile, hopped off one of the merlons to stand upside-down on the ceiling, and walked over to the doorway. A quick slash with a kunai had him bleeding freely, allowing him to open the door before easily healing the cut. He climbed through, taking up a position above the water that would allow him a clear line of fire to the floor of the pit but not to the defenders on the walls. Bill sent another few light-globes to push back the oppressive darkness that hung throughout the main chamber.

"Is everyone ready?" Albus called. They each responded in the affirmative. "Very well, then. Iruka, if you would."

At the Headmaster's prompting, Iruka released his chakra-based hold on the ceiling, kicking just enough to flip himself upright by the time he landed on the lake. The soles of his sandals only barely broke the water's surface, but it was enough: Within moments, the lake almost seemed to boil as pale figures erupted to attack. As quick as they were, however, they weren't fast enough to catch a chuunin that was expecting them, and he jumped back up to the ceiling. Below, about a dozen Inferi were leaping from the water attempting to reach him while dozens more climbed out onto the narrow ledge that ran along the cavern's wall. Those right in front of the door were almost immediately dismembered, blasted apart, or outright disintegrated by the barrage of powerful offensive spells that tore into them. Some of their nearby cohorts turned, seeming to have realized that other closer targets were available.

Iruka decided it was time to "encourage" more Inferi into the prepared pit. He took a deep breath as his hands flashed through a quick sequence of seals, ending on Tiger.

**Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!**

He spat a rapid-fire sequence of small fireballs, immolating many of the undead leaping out of the water and those on the ledge farthest from the door, with those not aimed to hit instead bracketing the mob to leave the door as the obvious escape route.

It worked. As they'd expected, those Inferi struck by fireballs took serious damage from the flames, while the rest followed their programming and retreated. Some returned to the water, but many did indeed charge through the door and into the pit, where they joined their brethren piled against the base of the wall and scrabbling futilely in their attempts to climb up and attack the wizards it protected.

Once the pit was as full of undead as it was likely to get without drawing more from the lake, Bill cast a low-power fire spell, immolating the packed mob and igniting the fuel they were standing in. So intense were the flames that most were charred down to little more than skeletons in a matter of seconds, with none making it up the ramp before they'd taken too much damage for the Dark magics animating them to keep them going. None of the Inferi still above water remained functional.

"A promising start," Albus said loudly enough to carry to Iruka's ears, "enough so that I feel confident in handling greater numbers in the next batch."

What followed was at once tense and tedious. Again and again, Iruka would provoke the Inferi before returning to the ceiling out of their reach. Between his fire jutsu and the other five's spells, the undead would be drawn and herded into the pit, where they could be destroyed en masse. Occasionally Iruka would have to reopen the door, but when he started to feel the repeated bleedings he simply downed a Blood-Replenishing Potion and kept going. The only real variation came when they'd emptied all the barrels, and Iruka made up the difference in firepower with a **Karyuudan**. Throughout it all, the air in the cave became increasingly fouled with the stench of burning flesh and hair and cloth, to the point where everyone took the time between rounds to cast Bubblehead Charms.

After wave upon wave of the undead, finally the tide started to slow. It took more provocations to draw enough Inferi out of the water to properly fill the pit, until it simply took too many and too long and the defenders started burning them in smaller batches. Eventually, even Iruka standing on the water for several minutes failed to produce any response.

"If they were alive, I'd worry that they'd finally gotten wise to our little trap," Sirius panted, his forehead damp with sweat, "but Inferi are too literally brain-dead to learn no matter how obvious the lesson."

"Indeed," Albus commented tiredly as he began to re-level the floor, in the process burying the piles of unidentifiable charred remains within the stone, "I believe that even if any Inferi remain beneath that lake, they are so few as to be of little use in bolstering Lord Voldemort's forces. Once we have all recovered a bit, we should take our leave."

Iruka returned to the antechamber to find five wizards looking sweaty and drained, though he wasn't much better; much longer and he'd have needed a soldier pill to make up the chakra he'd been rather literally burning. Thankfully, their plan had largely gone off without a hitch: There were a few minor scrapes and bruises from close calls, but nobody had been seriously hurt. Sirius and Albus had both suffered minor burns when a batch of Inferi had been immolated a bit too enthusiastically, but after that incident everyone had kept Flame-Freezing Charms active, and since then only some of the more aggressive magical flames had been any danger.

They all took a few minutes to catch their breath and treat their injuries with the potions and other medical supplies they'd brought, then made their way out through the half-flooded crevice. Rather than try climbing back up the cliff, they simply swam far enough out to be beyond the anti-Portkey ward covering the cave. Albus pulled out a length of rope that they all took hold of, and one dizzying ride later they were back in the Headmaster's office again making liberal use of drying charms. Some cleaning charms were next, to get rid of at least some of the sweat and salt from their bodies and the smell of the battle from their clothes, before they warmed themselves around the roaring fire in the fireplace. A house-elf brought an assortment of beverages, from brandy and firewhiskey to a full tea service.

They stayed a little while longer, sipping their drinks of choice and chatting half-heartedly about what they'd just done, but soon enough the combination of magical, physical, and emotional fatigue from the trying day had them all parting to seek out showers and clean clothes before falling into their beds for some much-deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Umbitch is HARD. I just can't readily get into the mindset of a petty, sadistic, bigoted bully. Assume that outside of the bits I added or tweaked, her speech was more or less like in canon.
> 
> Dumbledore likes the sound of his own voice, and he really likes feeling like the smartest person in the room.
> 
> Yes, I know that Harry said "at least" twice in one sentence. The way I write his "voice" is to skip a lot of the editing and polishing that I tend to do with other people's dialogue. He's the type to let his mouth get ahead of his brain, so sometimes he's going to trip over his own words.
> 
> Edit 15 February 2020: Added a bit about Hagrid's return.
> 
> I'm trying to use distinct dividers for each major character, but I'm afraid I'm stumped for Hermione and Neville. Right now, they're just the paired wands I use for most wizarding characters, but I'd like to put something in the middle that's specific to them. Unfortunately, FFnet strips out repeat spaces (and some other repeated characters), making ASCII art a real challenge. Any ideas for a solution are welcomed!


	4. Watchmen

"Ah, Percy!" Arthur beamed at his third son. "Time for our shift, then?"

"Indeed, Father." Percy nodded stiffly.

"All right," his father said, "give me a moment, just want to finish this section. Never any end to the parchmentwork, eh? At least things have been a tad quieter for us these last few months, fewer of the uglier sort of incident." He paused in thought, a rare frown appearing on his face. "Then again, I shouldn't wonder if the nastier Muggle-baiters are busy with something worse." At this he gave his son a meaningful look, tapping the side of his nose with a finger.

After he'd been cleared by the DMLE in the wake of the Crouch debacle (it still shocked him that such a wizard could have fallen so far), Percy had been brought into the Minister's confidence regarding the looming threat of a Dark wizard trying to undermine the Ministry and gain power by using a likeness of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tonight he and his father were the assigned pair keeping watch over the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, where Headmaster Dumbledore's sources reported the Dark wizard intended to steal something important.

Percy looked somewhat sadly around the cramped office to which his father was relegated. It was barely large enough to fit the desks of the only two wizards employed by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and was made even more claustrophobic by the clutter of paperwork, evidence, and personal knick-nacks scattered about. It was times like this that really brought home just how little regard many held for Arthur Weasley due to his strange fascination with Muggles. While wizards and witches were rightfully the Ministry's priority (it was the Ministry of _Magic_, after all) that didn't mean that Muggles didn't deserve protection from magical abuses against which they had no defense. Besides, didn't these people realize that Muggle-baiting was a direct violation of the Statute of Secrecy? Unleashing overtly-magical (and often dangerous) objects on hapless Muggles threatened to expose the existence of the Wizarding World!

Reaching the end of the form he'd been filling in, Arthur nodded in satisfaction. He put his quill on its rest, capped his inkwell, and dried the ink on the parchment with a casual wave of his wand as he stood and nodded to Percy. "Right, shall we?"

They rode the lift down to Level Nine, chatting idly about work. Once they stepped off, his father called out, "Dedalus? John?"

The air by the door to the Department of Mysteries shimmered, and two wizards appeared from under Invisibility Cloaks. One of them Percy recognized as John Dawlish, one of the Minister's most trusted Aurors, while the other was unfamiliar but had an excited air to him. Dawlish had his wand in his hand, though not yet raised, and gave a sharp glance to his companion who sheepishly fumbled for his own wand.

"Mandrake?" Dawlish asked cautiously. This was part of the hand-off between shifts that Percy had been briefed on. Each member of the outgoing shift would have a word they'd say as a sign that they were who they claimed, and one of the new shift would have the appropriate countersign. If either member of either pair couldn't recite their code word, everyone else was expected to immediately raise the alarm.

"Hufflepuff," Percy calmly replied, acknowledging the sign he'd been told to expect.

"Oh, what was it," the other wizard mumbled to himself. "Ah, yes! Bowtruckle!" He said what was presumably his code word with a grin reminiscent of a puppy expecting a treat.

"Kelpie," Arthur said with a nod. Both of the outgoing guards relaxed and put away their wands. The two pairs walked towards each other, the old shift handing off their borrowed Cloaks to the new watch along with a pair of charmed fake Galleons before going on their way with the usual pleasantries.

Before they settled in, Percy walked over to a section of corridor near the stairs down to Courtroom Ten, just on the far side from the lifts. He pulled out his wand and began moving it in an intricate pattern, muttering in an archaic form of Aramaic.

Arthur stopped, looking on with curiosity and, Percy thought, perhaps a bit of suspicion. "What are you doing there, Perce?"

"It's a simple paling," he explained, "something Bill taught me a while ago. Nothing all that impressive, quite limited in fact - it's not anchored like a proper ward, so it draws off of me as a power source, meaning I can't get too far away without it collapsing on its own. Beyond that, it's really just an easy, temporary alert ward; I figured that it might provide a bit of advance warning if anyone tries to sneak past." Actually, Bill had taught him the summer after his third year at Hogwarts. The twins had come home from their first year with a vastly expanded repertoire of pranking spells, potions, and the like, and as always seemed to take Percy's studious, orderly nature as a challenge. He'd kept the paling up over his room almost the entire summer after that, so that he'd at least have a bit of warning if Fred and George were messing about in there.

His father smiled. "Good thinking, son. Now, where should we set ourselves up..."

They ended up settling just outside the door to the Department of Mysteries. Both sat against opposite walls, invisible under their respective Cloaks and desperately staving off boredom and sleep by quietly chatting about the goings-on in various Ministry departments, as well as the Weasley family's Christmas plans and the latest things Arthur had heard from the four still at Hogwarts.

Hours later, as both were fighting to stay awake by recounting increasingly-minor tales from their respective work, Percy felt his paling break. "Dad," he whispered, "someone's here." He stiffly stood up and drew his wand, a process made particularly awkward by his efforts to remain hidden under his Cloak, and from the sound of things his father was having similar difficulties.

The corridor seemed empty, until he spotted a bit of movement in the shadows at the base of the wall. It was too far away and too poorly lit to make out, but it was definitely not human-shaped and much larger than a common rat (not that Percy would ever again make the mistake of thinking a rat harmless or mundane). He immediately reached into his left pocket and grabbed the fake Galleon he'd been given, pinching it between his thumb and middle finger until he felt it heat up. He'd done his part in raising the alarm, now they just had to hope that the Aurors showed up soon.

Unfortunately, it was only seconds later that the dark shape exploded into rapid motion, revealing itself as a truly enormous snake dashing towards the two Weasleys. Percy and Arthur both tossed their Cloaks off - since they'd obviously been detected, freedom of movement was much more valuable than ineffective invisibility at this point. Before the silvery fabric had even finished pooling on the corridor floor, the snake was on them, dodging around a hastily-cast cutting spell from Arthur.

Like most English-speakers, Percy had often heard of striking snakes being used in similes and metaphors to describe speed. Now, seeing it first-hand, he realized how much of an exaggeration most of those comparisons had been. The beast attacked Arthur first, though the older wizard moved surprisingly quickly himself, managing to get his left forearm up in the way of a strike aimed for his shoulder. Long, needlelike fangs sank into his flesh as the snake bit down, producing a sickening crack from the arm and a cry of pain from Arthur.

This finally shocked Percy out of his frightened immobility, as he began casting any curse he could think of at the serpent's body. His first curse missed, his second seemed to splash harmlessly off its scales, and he was busy incanting something a bit more powerful (and questionably legal) when his target blurred with motion and he felt agony in his right side. A glance downward showed an emerald head larger than his fist with its fangs embedded in his ribcage.

His father roared with an incoherent rage that Percy had never thought the man capable of. Even with what must have been terrible pain from his wounded arm, he cast a spell that was probably only legal due to its obscurity, producing a spray of brilliant orange darts that burned deep finger-width holes into the stone floor. Even the snake wasn't unaffected, though its injuries were far shallower than they should have been and clearly didn't slow the creature down noticeably.

Still, this was enough to draw its ire again, biting Arthur on the thigh before slithering off into the shadows. Percy tried to stumble after it, to press the attack, but the burning in his side was getting worse and the corridor was getting darker...

**Λ**  
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** V**

The second-to-last day of term, Iruka heard that Arthur and Percy Weasley had been attacked during their guard shift the previous night. More accurately, he first heard from his students that all four Weasleys had apparently been roused in the middle of the night by Minerva and hadn't been back to Gryffindor Tower since, their trunks no longer in their dormitories.

Checking with Minerva, he then found out that both wizards had been found by Aurors responding to the alarm, both bearing what looked like bite wounds from a massive venomous snake. While their injuries were severe and the venom potent, the Healers expected them to make a full recovery. During their convalescence, Molly and her school-age children would be staying with Sirius at Headquarters to be closer to Saint Mungo's; the Order and their families were largely avoiding Floo travel for fear of monitoring or diversion. That was all she knew at the time, though hopefully there'd be more news before the Order meeting scheduled for just after the start of winter break.

Albus would have been his next stop for more information, but Iruka knew that the elder wizard would be busy in the aftermath of such an attack. Satisfying his own curiosity wasn't a good enough reason to interrupt important work or a much-needed break from that work.

It wasn't until term had ended and Iruka was free to call on the Weasleys at Headquarters that he finally got the full story, along with a hug from Molly Weasley that might have cracked a rib on a civilian.

"Oh, Iruka, thank you so much!" She released him and stepped back, looking up with red-rimmed eyes and a fragile smile. "Albus said that it was your idea to give the guards some way of raising the alarm, and if it weren't for that who knows how long it would've been before somebody found Arthur and Percy? I can't even think about what might've happened if they'd been just left there for hours..."

"They'll be all right, though, right?" Iruka asked.

Molly nodded shakily. "Yes, they're already awake and sitting up, though the Healers said they'll be at least a few days yet before they can come home. Whatever that beast was that attacked them, there's some sort of Dark magic in its venom that's keeping the wounds from closing. They've actually tried some sort of Muggle foolishness to deal with it! It didn't work, of course, but still, the idea - as if you could mend a person's skin like darning a sock..."

"It's meant to hold the wound closed," Iruka explained, "and it keeps the edges lined up so that things heal properly with less of a scar. Not the prettiest thing to look at, but it doesn't really hurt except when they're first doing it. Magic is obviously a lot faster and cleaner, but it's always worth having something to fall back on when your first choice won't work. The Healers and Aurors wanted to learn about basic Muggle techniques for exactly that reason."

The redheaded witch blinked. "Oh yes, I remember Xeno talking about how you'd used Muggle means to help Pandora after her accident because you'd not learned any magic yet. So you're the one that taught the Healers about that?"

"I did," Iruka confirmed somewhat defensively. "It's more than just that one technique: A lot of what I showed them are simple ways of treating injuries without needing magic. Most of it isn't all that useful in most cases at the hospital, but it's helped the Aurors at least once or twice."

Molly gave him a dry look. "Well, regardless, thank you again for your suggestions to Albus, at least. Arthur and Percy will want to thank you in person, I'm sure, Arthur especially - he's over the moon about getting genuine Muggle-style healing, even if it didn't work," she groused before her expression softened. "We'll be doing our Christmas here at Headquarters this year, and Harry and the Grangers are coming. We'd love for you to join us, either on Christmas itself or on Boxing Day."

Iruka smiled gratefully. "I'd like that."

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

After checking in with everyone at Headquarters, Iruka's next port of call was Saint Mungo's Hospital. He found Arthur and Percy in neighboring beds in the "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward.

"Iruka!" Arthur beamed. He was sitting propped up with a large pile of pillows with his left arm in a sling, and looking a bit paler than usual. "I hear we have you to thank once again."

"Indeed," Percy agreed, putting down the book he'd been reading, "thank you, Professor, for your suggestions to Headmaster Dumbledore. Had it been only one of us alone against that snake, or had we not been able to call for help, our prognosis might well be far less positive."

"I'm just glad you're both doing okay," the chuunin replied. "What actually happened?"

Percy took it upon himself to describe the sequence of events from the start of their shift up through when he'd lost consciousness. "Apparently a squad of Aurors arrived within a few minutes," he continued, "but by then the snake was gone. Their working theory is that it must have left the same way it got in. Regardless, they rushed us both here for treatment. At the last word, Madam Bones and the Minister were discussing if and how the guard protocols should be changed in the wake of this incident."

"Has Albus been by?"

"Not yet," Arthur shook his head, "but you know how busy he is, and this mess is hardly likely to help."

"In that case," Iruka said, "would you mind if I took a copy of your memory of the attack? I'd like to see if I can tell whether it was the same snake I ran into in that graveyard, or whether there's more than one. It might also help us get a better idea of how to fight it, considering how durable it seems to be."

"It was certainly tough," Arthur confirmed, "though obviously in an underground corridor I couldn't go casting anything _too_ big for fear of bringing the ceiling down on us or catching Percy in the effect."

Iruka winced. "Yeah, fighting damage-resistant enemies in enclosed spaces tends to get ugly."

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

"It's the same snake," Iruka said as he and Albus emerged from the Pensieve, "at least I'm pretty sure it is."

"I worry that it may be more than just a snake," the Headmaster said soberly. "Its intelligence and durability are unlike any magical serpent I know of save for a Basilisk, but it lacks the deadly gaze and its venom is nowhere near as destructive. While it is possible that Lord Voldemort has simply enchanted and otherwise modified a snake to serve as a weapon, such a creature would be poorly-suited for use as a lone scout. Further, we know that he already possessed this snake or another very like it before his resurrection, and that it was already unnaturally durable at that time; there was no opportunity to carry out any enhancements between when he regained his full strength and when we arrived."

"Thus," he continued, "at least the size, aggression, and durability of the snake were granted to it while Tom was still in an infantile form and thus at greatly diminished capability. Enhancing a creature seems an odd use of his time while in such a state, something more likely to be done as a side project when idle than as a demanding task during an already fraught and demanding period. What, then, could have motivated him to do this? What goal could draw such efforts when he was in such a frail condition?"

"Something important," Iruka answered, thinking out loud, "either advancing his goals or protecting himself. Since I don't see any pressing need for the snake in conquering Britain, I'd lean towards the protection angle."

"My thoughts run along similar lines," Albus agreed, "leading me to ponder just what how Tom sought to use this snake to preserve his life. Most obviously it could serve as a potent bodyguard, one that obeys only him and is clearly quite dangerous to wizards, but I circle back to the question of why he would use such a creature as a scout. Perhaps he no longer felt the need for a bodyguard now that he was fully restored, freeing the snake to be put to other uses, but this task was a poor fit for anything less intelligent than a human being. How much effort would need to be wasted in teaching the snake all it would need to know to successfully carry out such a mission, and to report useful information upon its return? A possibility comes to mind, a reminder that with a certain connection it is possible to view events remotely through another being..."

Iruka frowned in confusion as Albus trailed off. What was he talking about? The only instance he'd ever heard of where somebody saw what was going on around someone else was - his eyes widened. "You think he made the snake a Horcrux?"

Albus nodded. "I do. What better reassurance for a man, terrified of his own mortality, who is trapped in a weak and vulnerable form? It would have created both an additional anchor and a useful weapon in one stroke. The vile Dark magic involved could explain why its venom prevents wounds from closing, and we both saw how even the powerful and rather questionable spell Arthur used had barely any effect. I have little doubt that by now, even those minor injuries are already healed or at least well on their way there. While a living creature would be more fragile in some ways, its ability to actively fight back against an attacker or to flee when outmatched provide defenses easily on par with any static protections."

"Of course this is all just an educated guess," the Headmaster admitted, "but I've found that my guesses tend to be correct more often than not. The sensible course of action therefore would be to seek this snake's destruction on the presumption that it is indeed a Horcrux. Even if we are wrong in believing that, it is still a dangerous and aggressive Dark creature that would almost certainly pose a threat to innocent people should it be left to its own devices after Lord Voldemort's ultimate demise."

"That makes sense," Iruka agreed. "A dangerous creature under enemy control is bad, but at least it's predictable. A dangerous creature running - or slithering, in this case - loose with nobody restraining it could actually be worse. This does beg the question of _how_ we're supposed to kill it. Somehow I doubt it'll be obliging enough to sit still while we stab it with a Basilisk fang."

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

Christmas with the Weasley family was... _exuberant_, and that was without counting Sirius Black's contributions_. _Iruka met up with Harry and the Grangers after the four had enjoyed an early breakfast and opened their gifts from each other, and the quintet traveled to Headquarters. The old Black family home had been decorated to a level that made "over the top" seem tame by comparison, with fairy lights and color-changing baubles and singing wreaths in every room and hallway, with holly boughs in the main hall chiming in with the "fa la la" portion every time "Deck the Halls" came up. Someone, presumably either a twin or a Marauder, had tampered with the charms on several wreaths to replace their lyrics with various _creative _alternatives when Molly Weasley was out of earshot; it was as if they suspected she wouldn't approve. Iruka's favorite was one on the washroom door that kept coming back to "The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen".

Presents were distributed and wrapping paper flew, but Arthur and Percy's continued absence left many of the smiles a touch strained and brittle. After a massive lunch (complete with dinner theater of Molly and Kreacher both trying to prepare food for everyone) the redheads left to visit their missing members in Saint Mungo's. When they returned just before suppertime, they brought stories of Neville having possibly saved the life of one of Arthur's Ministry colleagues.

As he'd explained to Ginny during a lull in the commotion that resulted, during his annual Christmas Day visit with his parents, the teen had spotted an odd potted plant by the bed of another patient. Having previously tried several times to give decorative plants to his parents, Neville knew well that live plants weren't permitted as decoration in the wards, which made him particularly curious. Upon closer inspection, he immediately recognized the plant as a disguised cutting of Devil's Snare, and promptly alerted the hospital's staff of the dangerous decoration.

Broderick Bode was now in a secure ward usually used for treatment of Aurors and VIPs. It would later turn out that the Bode, an Unspeakable, had been found insensate in the Department of Mysteries after an unknown incident. The Devil's Snare had been sent to him at Saint Mungo's as an anonymous Christmas gift, and the Healer in charge of the ward had been too busy with the flood of activity over the holiday and had failed both to spot the danger the plant posed and to follow hospital protocol. She had been suspended with pay pending an inquiry.

**Λ**  
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**  
** V**

Classes resumed after the New Year, with the pressure redoubled on Fifth- and Seventh-Years. Unfortunately for academia, however, news was coming that would shatter the concentration of students and staff alike.

"A breakout?" Iruka asked.

The Headmaster nodded somberly. "Nine of Lord Voldemort's most fanatical and dangerous followers were freed, with one slain by a guard who was himself unfortunately killed. I had not expected such overt action so early, and so hadn't pushed as hard as I could have to more thoroughly tighten security, and now we shall all pay for my mistake." He shook himself slightly. "In any event, I wanted to warn you promptly so that you might inform young Mister Longbottom: As the three Lestranges were among those to escape, this news will likely have a severe impact on the lad, and given your closeness to him I felt that it might be better for him to hear about it from you before it's announced in tomorrow's Prophet."

"It would," the chuunin agreed with a sigh. "I'll talk to him first thing in the morning; no sense ruining his sleep tonight. This kind of big move, though - could it mean that Riddle's getting ready to act more openly?"

"I do not know," Albus replied, "but whatever his reasoning this is a worrying sign..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Many. REWRITES...
> 
> First, I just glossed over Christmas hols with nothing happening, before I remembered about Nagini's attack and Broderick Bode. Then I got through writing the scene between Iruka and Molly only to re-read the relevant bits of OotP and find out that she really didn't like the stitching idea, and that it didn't work (I'd thought it had). After all that, I noticed that the Azkaban breakout was on the first day of term, which meant the little scene I'd written of Ginny and Luna joking with the other three just wouldn't fit with how Neville would be feeling and acting. Seriously, this chapter was a bloody nightmare.
> 
> As for Neville spotting the Devil's Snare here when he didn't in canon, I figure that both he and the circumstances are different enough to tip what should have been a fairly close thing to begin with. After all, shouldn't the Herbology prodigy have recognized a dangerous plant, or at least been curious about it? I threw in him having tried to gift plants to his parents before, since that seems very in-character for him. Unlike in canon, he's more confident and more situationally-aware, and hasn't been distracted by an unexpected and deeply uncomfortable encounter with his schoolmates, so it makes sense to me that he'd be more likely to notice a plant that shouldn't be there and take an interest. Yes, it's been disguised, but this is Neville we're talking about, and one that's had first-hand experience with Devil's Snare.
> 
> I figured that Fudge's different attitude towards the war effort should have some effect on the Azkaban breakout. It wasn't going to stop it, not with Riddle showing up personally and the Dementors on his side, but having one of the added human guards kill an escapee (and be killed in retaliation) seemed about right.
> 
> This chapter is being posted a week early not in celebration of any particular winter solstice holiday, but because I'm switching to a weekly posting schedule. Those of you who regularly read my Author's Notes might realize what this means. That's right, folks, I've finished preliminary writing! All that's left is editing, polishing, formatting, and maybe a few last-minute tweaks. Happy [Insert Holiday]!


	5. Cut

Iruka was waiting outside the portrait gateway to the Gryffindor common room when Neville emerged on his way to breakfast. "Neville," he called out, "could you come with me for a bit? I'll have some breakfast brought up and give you a pass if it takes too long for you to get to your first class on time."

Once the two were seated in Iruka's office with tea and a breakfast spread, the chuunin addressed the clearly worried teen. "Something happened last night," he stated, "and the Headmaster and I thought it better to tell you privately rather than wait for you to find out in the Prophet." Neville tensed further, sipping nervously from a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Azkaban was attacked, and a group of Death Eaters were freed... including the Lestranges."

Juice splashed on the floor as Neville's grip tightened enough to crush his goblet. The normally placid boy practically radiated fury as he looked up, meeting Iruka's eyes with a resolute gaze and speaking in a deceptively calm voice. "I need to step up my training."

Iruka's eyes narrowed in concern; this could get problematic. "First, you need to tell me exactly _why_ you need to train more."

"Why?" Neville's voice was nearly at shouting volume, a far cry from his usual quiet calm. "Why do you think?!"

"I think there are two possibilities," the chuunin replied firmly, "protecting and avenging, and they are very, _very_ different. Some might say that they're almost opposed to each other, since protection revolves around keeping people safe in the present and the future, whereas vengeance is all about the past. Revenge can and often does hurt the people that protection would be shielding. We've talked already about Uchiha Sasuke, and the depths he fell to chasing after his revenge, the damage he caused. We've also talked about the Fourth Great War, where people put aside their grudges and hatreds, banding together to protect those they loved. So tell me, Neville..." he paused for a moment, looking into his student's eyes.

"Are you a protector or an avenger?"

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While the blunt and somewhat melodramatic question was a start, it still took a long conversation and more than a few outbursts and arguments before Neville finally had his head on straight. They did get there eventually, though, and agreed to step up not only Neville's training but all of S.E.N. as much as they reasonably could. Neville left Iruka's office with a newfound resolve focused on protecting the loved ones he currently had rather than avenging those he'd already lost.

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Hogwarts's rumored "Defense Curse" struck unusually early. It was just nearing the end of January when a Muggle-born Fourth-Year Gryffindor, Colin Creevey, went to his Head of House to complain about a series of detentions he'd been set. At first Minerva had tried to brush the boy off, as she had several students earlier in the year, until he managed to convey to her that the quill he was required to use when writing lines ("I must respect my betters" in his case) carved whatever he wrote into the flesh of his hand and used his blood as ink.

The Deputy Headmistress had then gone to her fellow Heads of House, and between them they'd questioned their students regarding detentions with Professor Umbridge. Over a dozen Muggle-born students, along with two half-bloods, reported the use of the cruel writing implement for their lines. Headmaster Dumbledore was informed, followed by the DMLE. Aurors searched the Defense Professor's office, and found a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point that matched the students' description. A quick test proved that it did function as claimed, and within the hour the pink-clad witch was arrested and marched from the school in disgrace under the glaring eyes of the staff and students.

A broader investigation yielded unexpected fruit when Aurors searching the ex-Senior Undersecretary's home for further Dark artifacts instead came upon a cheap Chinese calligraphy kit, along with marked papers that were near-perfect matches for those left at Privet Drive. Mafalda Hopkirk confirmed to the DMLE that the batrachian witch had that summer asked about Harry's warning for underage magic three years before. When interrogated, Umbridge, who at the time was still certain that the Minister would make all of the charges disappear, was goaded into ranting about how "that filthy foreigner" had too much influence on "dear Cornelius".

Umbridge's trial was quick and decisive, in what seemed to be a largely-ineffective attempt by Cornelius Fudge to minimize the public attention paid to it. Fortunately for him, the swiftness of the trial and his equally-swift abandonment of his now-former Senior Undersecretary greatly reduced the amount of backlash directed his way. Unfortunately for the Minister, when someone he appointed to teach at the country's premier school of magic used her position to torture children there was no way it _wouldn't_ be a major story. Regardless, in an attempt to salvage the situation he tossed the foul woman to the wolves and ordered Madam Bones to assign someone to fill out the year.

Despite the support of several members of the Wizengamot who saw nothing wrong with, as one actually said it, "killing a few animals and showing a few Mudbloods their place," Dolores Umbridge was convicted and sentenced to ten years in the medium-security section of Azkaban.

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Things quieted down after that, with even the pall of fear hanging over everyone beginning to fade as none of the escaped Death Eaters had been seen or heard from. Of course, those aware of the true nature of the threat remained worried; they knew that this lack of overt action just meant that Voldemort was preparing for something. Professor Snape had yet to figure out just what that something was, though he did report that the escapees were in the process of recovering from their long incarceration. He was presently doing his best to slow that recuperation down without being caught out at it; Albus had, at the Potions Professor's request, placed more demands on his time in order to limit how much of it he could spend treating his supposed comrades-in-(Marked-)arms.

Meanwhile, the Horcrux-hunting team was preparing for their next outing. Most of the locations associated with Tom Marvolo Riddle's history had shown no sign of anything unusual when quietly checked, but the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton was proving unnaturally difficult to locate. It might just be lingering old Unplottability spells, but given the ease with which Tom Riddle Senior and his friends had passed by (and the general lack of advanced magical skill shown by the last generations of Gaunts) it was too suspicious to ignore.

It was a cold, dreary, foggy morning in early March when the sextet arrived not far from where Bob Ogden's memory had begun. "Everyone stay close," Albus ordered, "there's some sort of confusion effect once we get into the trees, and it may attempt to separate us."

"Well," Bill said, "in that case..." He conjured a simple length of rope a few meters long. "We all just grab hold and don't let go. It's standard practice for Curse-Breakers when we encounter something like that."

It took a couple of minutes for everyone to decide on a marching order, but soon enough they each had their left hands gripping the rope. Iruka was the only one that didn't have his wand drawn in his other hand. Albus took the lead, followed by Bill, then Iruka, Sirius, Remus, and Moody brought up the rear. Together, they pushed their way through the undergrowth and into the small wood.

Almost immediately they were completely enveloped in an obscuring mist, visibility dropping to less than two meters. There were no paths to follow, just winding gaps between the trees and dense brush; easy enough for Iruka to traverse if he were by himself, but the other five weren't so lucky, so all six were forced to wend their way through.

As they came to a clearer area, Iruka felt something trying to skew his perceptions. He brought his hand up into a half-ram seal and performed a genjutsu release. At the same time, Albus halted at the front of the column. "Interesting," the Headmaster commented, "something in the guards and wards placed here just tried to convince me that I was turning right as I intended while I actually turned left. It's quite a clever and subtle means of misdirecting intruders, but of little use against a practiced Occlumens."

"Well we do suspect that this was one of the earlier hiding places," Remus suggested, "maybe he was still young?"

"Don't assume it'll be that easy," Moody growled. "The minute we figure he didn't know what he was doin' and let our guard down, that's when the real nasty stuff'll get us."

"Moody's right," Bill agreed, "I've seen a couple of tombs that used weak or obvious defenses to lull an intruder into a false sense of security before unleashing something more serious. The worst case was one where all of the outer traps were literally jokes, all pranks and annoyances, right up until the stone slab that would've crushed us all if we'd been careless. The inscription on the side of the slab roughly translated as 'Laugh this one off.'"

Resolved to caution (or "constant vigilance"), the group pressed on.

Eventually, they came upon a truly decrepit old shack. It looked like the Gaunt shack they'd seen in the Pensieve, but for one tiny detail:

There were no doors or windows visible.

"So," Iruka said, "do we try and find the door, or do we just cut our way in through the wall?"

"Unless there's magic helping hold it up, I'm not sure it's in any condition to survive having holes blasted into it." Remus shook his head. "In general, searching a building requires going inside, not just leveling it and digging through the rubble."

"I also doubt that Tom would have bothered erasing or concealing the door and windows if forcing entry through the wall was likely to work well," Albus commented as he began carefully casting spells toward the shack, soon joined by Bill.

"They're hidden, not gone," Moody commented as his enchanted eye swept over the shack, "but there's some weird symbol painted on all the windows. Nothin' I've seen before, but I doubt it's there for decoration."

"Can you draw it?" Bill asked. Moody roughly sketched a complex shape in the air with glowing lines from the tip of his wand. It was something Iruka had never seen before, in the rough shape of an inverted teardrop with four wavy spikes radiating out, though the teardrop itself was made up of several shapes, all of which were spiky and all but the lowest forming a vaguely humanoid shape.

"Doesn't look familiar to me," the Curse-Breaker stated. "Professor?"

Albus shook his head. "I do not recognize it either. We shall have to be careful, and I would prefer to properly examine whichever portal we decide to use. Entering blindly seems... unwise."

It took only a couple of minutes for the Headmaster and Curse-Breaker to dismantle the spell covering the door and windows. The moment they succeeded and Iruka looked directly at the symbols on the windows, he felt pain wracking his body, a deep, burning ache. Judging by the cries of his compatriots, they too were affected, and just looking away didn't help any.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Sirius gasped. "What in Merlin's name _is_ that? It's no patch on the Cruciatus, I can thank dear departed mum for that knowledge, but still no picnic."

"Dark magic, that's all I can say," Moody grunted out, a bit unsteady on his foot. "Can always tell somethin's Dark when it makes my scars ache."

"So do we push on," Remus asked, "or go back and try to recover a bit? Or do we rest here for a while?"

"I haven't picked up any sort of alert wards or telltales," Bill ventured, "but then again I didn't catch this, so no guarantees."

"I believe," Albus said as he conjured a set of six armchairs, noticeably simpler than his usual work, "that we would be best served taking some rest, so long as we remain aware of our surroundings. If anyone's condition worsens, we should immediately return to Hogwarts for treatment, but for now we should rest and perhaps see if we can find a counter to this effect."

They all sat, most rather stiffly, though all kept their wands in hand and watched the area around them warily. Sirius tried to start up a conversation at one point, but they were all hurting too much for small talk.

After around fifteen minutes of everyone trying and failing to find a more comfortable position to sit in (although a couple of Sirius's attempts in both human and canine form were amusing), the Headmaster stood. "It seems that whatever this effect is," he sighed, "it won't be clearing up on its own soon, if at all. I'm afraid we should probably press forward." The rest of those present groaned but stood.

They moved cautiously (and more than a little gingerly) toward the shack. "It looks like there's one of those symbols on every window," Iruka observed, "but not on the door. Call me paranoid, but somehow I don't think that means the door's _safer_. Do we go in through the door, or a window? I'd suggest smashing the windows out from a distance, but with this mist and how easy it is to get turned around in it, I'm not exactly confident in my blind aim."

"Alastor and I would also have a bit more trouble than the rest of you clambering through one of those windows," Albus said with a touch of acidity. "I, for one, would rather chance the door's defenses, if for no other reason than to give us all a faster and easier means of egress should we need to leave in a hurry."

The group gathered close to the door, and Iruka's gaze was drawn to the mummified, long-dead snake nailed to the door. The moment he began to examine it, the snake seemed to spring to life, striking out at him. He dodged easily, and the ophidian corpse burst into a flash of brown light, a puff of dun smoke, and a loud _whoomph_ noise. The others belatedly leapt back, startled.

"Huh," Sirius commented, "haven't seen one of those in a while." At the looks he was receiving, he elaborated. "Sepia Snake Sigil, an old spell my family used to load into some of the more... _interesting_ books in the family library. It actually wouldn't have hurt anyone, just put whoever it bit into a sort of stasis - useful for keeping nosy kids out of books they're not supposed to be reading, and for keeping whoever's trying to find your Horcrux alive for easy interrogation. Funny thing is, despite the snake motif it's not Dark at all. I'd figured the spell was lost ages ago, but apparently old Moldy found it somewhere and modified it to work with that dead snake."

The Headmaster sighed. "Yet another example of Tom's wasted potential."

"Get back!" Bill suddenly shouted frantically. The others obeyed promptly, trusting that an experienced Curse-Breaker wouldn't be worried at nothing. Once they'd taken a few meters of distance, he asked, "Professor, could you try and blow the mist back a bit for a few moments?"

Albus nodded, and cast a spell that produced a gust of hot, dry wind that created a path of clear visibility to the door. The mist almost immediately began to creep back in, but while it did Bill shot a stream of what looked like tar from his wand, spraying it along the doorframe. "Nasty booby-trap," he explained as he worked, "a set of runes set up to do nothing but explode if anybody reads them. It's a trick I've seen before a couple times, specifically there to kill anyone looking for wards and traps. We've found the best way to deal with it is to just cover it up so nobody can see the runes - people tend to naturally read any text they see, so just ignoring it is a bad idea, and trying to remove the runes can set them off. Overall, it's exotic in Britain but something any Curse-Breaker that's worked abroad would recognize pretty quickly."

"Done Bill?" Sirius asked once the entire doorframe had been tarred. At the redhead's nod, he flicked his wand and blasted the door off its hinges. "I'm getting more than a little sick of this shyte," he explained at the glares he received, "plus the sooner we deal with whatever's here the sooner we can get to a nice round of pain-relief potions."

After checking to make sure that Sirius's bout of impulsive stupidity hadn't triggered or primed any additional traps, the group made their cautious entry into the shack itself. The place was, simply put, a ruin. Given that it hadn't been properly maintained for over half a century, nor maintained _at all _for quite a few years, it was hardly surprising that the shack's interior was a mix of rot, water damage from leaks in the roof, scattered hunks of rust that might once have been iron kitchenware, and an all-around layer of filth and dust. What _was_ surprising given the location was the complete lack of moss or other plant life, or signs of any animal activity. Throw in the unnatural stillness of the wood outside and the pattern that emerged was more than a little ominous.

Surprisingly, no traps went off; no hazards presented themselves. The six scanned their surroundings carefully with both their senses and their wands for several minutes before Moody grunted, "Found somethin'." He pointed to a seemingly random spot on the floor. "There's a small box, couple inches across, under the floorboards, looks like it's got the ring inside." A sharp jab of his wand produced a small hovering light that hovered a hand's breadth off the floor. "Right there. I don't see anythin' in terms of traps or spells, but that doesn't mean there aren't any. Constant vigilance! We've been caught with our trousers down once already today, so _be careful_ and don't let it happen again!"

Bill and Albus moved forward, while Moody kept watch on the area. Remus and Iruka both watched from a couple meters away - close enough to get in and help quickly if needed, but far enough to not get caught up in small-area booby traps. The chuunin would have been further back but the Gaunt family's little shack was close, cluttered, and currently crowded with six people in one room. Sirius also looked on curiously at first, but as the minutes of careful investigation ticked by without anything happening, he began to fidget and stepped just outside the front door to keep watch, glancing back in occasionally to check for any progress.

It was a good ten minutes before the Headmaster and the Curse-Breaker carefully Vanished each floorboard adjoining their target one at a time, before using a levitated piece of detritus to pry up the board covering their objective. This revealed a large ring-box made of black iron that lacked even the tiniest spot of visible rust in spite of sitting on the bare earth between the floor joists for what must have been decades in a damp, mouldering old ruin of a house. Another quarter-hour of further diagnostics followed, after which the pair used several pieces of debris to flip open the box's lid from a distance.

As the two approached the ring box, Bill pulled out a pair of dragonhide gloves and slipped them on. "Do you have the fang with you, Professor?" he asked, getting no response. "Professor Dumbledore?" His voice was louder this time, with a worried edge.

Albus was staring at the ring, seemingly entranced and ignoring everyone around him. As is often the case in such situations, what followed seemed to happen both ponderously slowly and more quickly than it had any right to. The Headmaster immediately strode forward, an almost absent twitch of his wand batting away a spell from Moody before an overpowered Summoning Charm ripped everyone else's wands (including two backups from Moody) from their hands or holsters and tossed them across the room. The combination was finished by a wide-area Shoe-Sticking Charm to root the five of them in place. While Bill fought to slip out of his boots and Moody reached for some sort of trinket, Dumbledore snatched up the ring with his left hand, putting his wand away with his right, and went to slip the ring on.

Iruka had been _aiming_ for the ring itself, but the persistent ache from earlier was still hampering him, so his desperate kunai throw instead removed the top joint of Albus's right middle finger and badly gashed the fingers to either side.

The Headmaster jolted back with a gasp of shock, dropping the ring and clutching his maimed and bleeding hand, as his severed appendage dropped into the center of the band and almost instantly shriveled and blackened. After a few moments of disorientation, he fumbled for his wand heedless of the large bloodstain this left that would undoubtedly ruin his robes, and quickly released everyone and returned their wands before using his left hand to cast a clumsy healing charm to stem the bleeding. Finally, he reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a wooden case far larger than said pocket should have been able to hold, and passed it to Bill. "I believe that you should probably do the honors, considering," he said shakily.

Bill nodded resolutely and opened the case, withdrawing the deadly fang held within and stabbing it down into the ring. As with the locket, there was a moment of resistance before the stone cracked and the band warped as if half-melted as a screaming black mist poured out, formed a vaguely face-like shape, and then dissipated with one final wail of terror, despair, and agony.

"We need to get back fast," Moody said sternly, though like everyone else present he was clearly shaken by the experience. "That healing charm'll keep Albus from bleeding out, but he needs a proper Healer if he wants his hand workin' right any time soon." None of them were going to question that assessment from a man that was missing fingers. "Grab the ring, the fang, and the boxes for both, and we need to do something about the blood spilled. Too many Dark things somebody can do with blood."

"Leave that to me," Iruka assured.

Bill and Remus grabbed and boxed up the fang and ring, respectively, and the group hustled out the shack's front door. Sirius Transfigured a small box to hold what was left of Albus's fingertip, though he carefully avoided touching the withered flesh directly. Iruka retrieved his kunai and brought up the rear, turning just before he left. A quick sequence of seals later, and he was hosing that entire area of the room down with hundreds of liters of water that would wash most of the blood away and dilute any that remained beyond any plausible usefulness. "I figured that a fire would have been too noticeable, pillar of smoke and all that," he explained as he rejoined the rest. "This way he won't know we've been here unless he comes to check in person."

"Good thinking," Moody complimented, "now get a move on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, Umbitch was still torturing students, but not Harry. Unlike in canon, she doesn't have Ministerial carte blanche to attack and torment him, and he's still a beloved child celebrity, which means he's protected. One nasty thing about Dolores Umbridge, she only attacks targets that can't fight back. In this case, that meant Muggle-born students. She made all other detentions she gave lines as well, but with an ordinary self-inking quill, to further confuse the issue for the staff. Thus, McG brushed off the complaints with "You're complaining about being made to write lines?" not realizing that it wasn't the "what" but the "how" that was the problem. A couple of the toad's victims talked to their parents about it over Christmas break, though, and were encouraged to make a more persistent attempt to report the problem. Thus, Colin Creevey kept pushing until McG actually listened when he was telling her about the black quill. Since he wasn't paranoid about Dumbledore moving against him and invested in tearing down Dumbles and Harry, Fudge decided to distance himself from the resultant scandal by throwing Umbitch under the bus.
> 
> When doing the Gaunt Shack, I wanted to do my own set of defenses not based on any other fanfics I've read that included it, and was struggling with ideas before I realized that there was a ready source for all kinds of fun and nasty protective spells. For those that didn't catch it, every spell (save possibly for the withering curse on the ring) was from the Dungeons and Dragons Player's Handbook (3.5 Edition), though I did make a couple of tweaks. Funny thing, there's actually an illustration of a Symbol of Pain in the PHB, which gave me something to describe (badly). Also, I decided to roll saves/checks using rough guesstimates at some points, just to make things less predictable.
> 
> The mostly-joke tomb Bill talks about is shamelessly based upon one from the novel "Sourcery" by the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett. Remus's comment is a reference to the list of "Things Mr. Welch can no longer do in an RPG". I don't know why I went on a referencing spree in this chapter.


	6. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Real-life term of bigotry, albeit probably used incorrectly

Madam Pomfrey was... less than pleased when six grown men piled into her Hospital Ward, asking her to deal with the serious injury to the hand of their eldest member and being distinctly evasive on how this came about. She was easily able to mend the cuts on Albus's ring and index fingers, but after a quick glance at the severed portion of his middle finger declared it beyond salvage and worked to close up the end of what remained. The Headmaster would be spending the night in her domain, require further care the next morning, and be sore for several days afterward, but at least he still had enough of the finger left that it wouldn't substantially impact his spellcasting or daily life.

It was when the school's Mediwitch mentioned that Albus's finger would be sore that Iruka realized that the pain he'd been afflicted with was beginning to fade. He brought this up to the others, who confirmed that they were starting to recover as well. Of course, mentioning pain in front of a Healer meant that the number of occupied beds swiftly went from one to six, and each of them was dosed with a potion to ease the lingering ache. Given the ordeal they'd all just been through, none of them protested the enforced rest all that much. Since they'd been confined to the Hospital Wing, they ended up sending their new acquisitions up to the Headmaster's office via Dobby. Even with their headaches fading, they were glad to have the eye-wateringly-colorful patchwork suit he was wearing that day out of sight.

Once the Dragon Lady of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing had retired to her office, Albus spoke up. "Alastor, would you be so kind as to raise a few privacy spells? I would do it myself, but I am under some rather strict instructions to rest my wand hand." The scarred Auror complied with a chuckle, casting a very long series of spells that probably not only ensured their privacy but rendered the infirmary one of the most well-defended rooms in the castle for the next little while.

"So," the Headmaster began, "we have now destroyed three of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, even if we did not return entirely unscathed." He raised his hand briefly for emphasis. "I feel that I must apologize for my lapse in focus. In addition to whatever horrid withering curse it carried, the ring also bore a rather powerful compulsion spell encouraging whoever beheld it to immediately put it on. Due to the pain with which we were all afflicted, my concentration and therefore my will was not as strong as it could have been. There was also a certain... complicating factor that made me more susceptible in this particular circumstance."

It was hard _not_ to notice the evasion in that last sentence. "I'd rather not pry," Iruka said, his tone slightly strained, "but can you at least tell us whether this _complicating factor_ might _complicate_ things again in the future?"

Albus shook his head. "It will not. There is something about that specific ring that was of significant interest to me, something which I am entirely certain is not shared by any other object which might be a Horcrux or included in one's defenses."

"That's a relief, at least," Sirius commented, "but then again it won't matter unless there are still _more_ of those blasted things out there _and_ we find them somehow. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that shack our last remaining lead for hiding spots?"

"It was," Remus confirmed, "but we'll keep searching. We won't know if we're done until Slughorn coughs up the real version of that memory, but until he does we should act on the assumption that there are more Horcruxes other than probably that snake. Better to waste a bit of time looking for something that's not there than assume we're done and get caught on the hop later on."

Moody gave an approving grunt. "And we can't get the bloody snake yet anyway. If it _is_ a Horcrux, You-Know-Who'll probably go checking up on his others when we kill it. He finds out he's out of anchors, he won't be nearly as carefree about walking around throwing curses at people, and he might make more of the bloody things and hide 'em better than this batch. In other words, unless his first hint that he's mortal again is when he dies and he stays dead, we're all right royally buggered."

The Headmaster looked at his old friend reprovingly. "Really, Alastor, there's no need for such crudity." He shook his head slightly. "I agree that the snake should be saved for as close as possible to Lord Voldemort's ultimate demise. Remus's point on continuing to search is also well-made, although I admit that we may currently be at something of a loose end in that regard, having exhausted those leads which we have thus far been able to gather."

"Maybe it's time to ask Harry," Iruka suggested. "Given the similarities between his background and Riddle's, he may have suggestions we wouldn't have considered. He's been working hard on his mental defenses, to say nothing of the seal, so it should be safe in terms of information security."

Albus sagged. "I had hoped to spare Harry as much of this as possible, but it seems that we adults must once again turn to him for aid. We will continue as we have been for now, but if no further leads arise before the beginning of the summer holidays, we will bring Harry into our confidence. I will _not_, however, countenance bringing him with us on any expeditions unless we have need of a Parselmouth. Providing his insights into Tom's thought processes is one thing, but given today's close call I hope that we can all agree that actually bringing a teenager into such danger is simply unacceptable no matter how talented and capable he has proven himself to be." Five firm nods met this declaration. "Good. Now, with the matters of import resolved, I believe that we are all under orders to rest..."

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The six Horcrux hunters recovered quickly, though Albus did seek their help over the following weeks as he worked to adjust to the change to his wand hand. Much of this help consisted of acting as opponents in practice duels, though when there were less than two or three of them at once they tended to function less as duelists and more as practice dummies.

As the weeks passed, it became increasingly clear that Harry would have to be brought in on the Horcrux hunt, since none of the current participants had come up with any real new ideas. In the meantime, S.E.N. continued to train as hard as they could while still leaving their three Fifth-Years enough time and energy to study for O.W.L.s. Filius and Albus both made time to join them whenever possible, both to teach them more about magical combat and to keep their own skills at their sharpest.

It wasn't just those inside the castle that were training, however. At Iruka's suggestion and with the enthusiastic support of Alastor Moody and others, everyone in the Order had started making use of a practice room in Number Twelve to refresh their own skills in duelling and self-defense. Remus spent the most time acting as a teacher/trainer, with the group's Aurors sometimes pitching in during what few precious off-hours they had these days. That wasn't to say that it was a purely teacher/student arrangement, though: Almost every member of the Order had at least one thing to teach their comrades, often some little-known spell or a handy trick. Iruka made himself available as often as possible to teach what non-magical things he could in a short period, such as teamwork, physical fitness, and battlefield first-aid. Many of the Pureblood members were less than enthusiastic about the calisthenics he encouraged everyone to do, but even when they grumbled they still trained. With the ever-growing feeling of a hidden blade looming over them all, it helped morale to feel that they were doing something, _anything_ to prepare.

Amelia Bones reported that the hidden recruitment drive for foreign Aurors and Hit-Wizards was making decent progress. It was slow going, but that was the price they paid for prioritizing secrecy. Hopefully it would be worthwhile when the Death Eaters suddenly found their opposition far better-manned and better-trained than they were expecting. The hidden-but-not-well-enough increase in new trainees also showed some promise, but none of these new recruits would be ready for the front lines in anything but the most desperate of circumstances for at least another year.

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** V**

It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Iruka was strolling through the village as part of the day's staff contingent when he noticed he was being tailed. Really, it was hard not to - the figures wearing hooded cloaks that looked far too warm for the balmy late May afternoon were barely even being subtle by the standards of oblivious wizarding civilians. Expecting a confrontation sooner or later, Iruka steered his path away from the areas of the village frequented by students, the better to keep any children from getting caught up in whatever was coming.

The crowds thinned quickly as he made his way off the main thoroughfares and onto the side streets and back streets, but his shadows stayed with him. Eventually, after several minutes of walking without seeing or hearing any signs of bystanders, he picked an area with plenty of trees and buildings around that would get in his opponents' way far more than they would his. He stopped, adopting a seemingly-casual pose that any genin would recognize as a loose ready stance, and turned around, hands in his pockets fingering the weapons concealed within. "All right, I've known First-Years better at sneaking around than you are. What do you want?"

Five cloaked figures stepped into the open, moving into a rough circle around the chuunin with their wands drawn. Their apparent leader spoke, his voice marking him as the same one that'd organized his fellows in the graveyard the year before. "You're coming with us. Our Lord has granted you the honor of an audience with him." Even with the figure's face hidden, the sneer was almost palpable. "Don't try anything stupid, either. We've seen your little tricks already; they won't work a second time."

Given that he wasn't exactly eager to meet with Voldemort on said Dark Lord's terms, Iruka decided to test that claim. He ducked into a low spin, his hands emerging with small stacks of shuriken that he whipped out towards his would-be kidnappers. While most of them were distracted shielding against the flying blades, he used a basic Bunshin no Jutsu to seemingly multiply into over a dozen figures. As curses started to fly his way, he and his illusory decoys scattered in every direction, some dashing low to the ground while others leapt high over the Death Eaters' heads and onto roofs or into trees. He'd be able to fight and/or escape more effectively if he wasn't surrounded by his enemies.

Unfortunately his lack of opportunity to focus on them meant that his clones weren't actively dodging, which meant that within seconds he'd been picked out as the real target. Worse, as he dashed around the corner of a nearby house he was forced to hastily dodge a length of whirling chain covered in cruelly-barbed hooks shot by a new assailant. It turned out the Death Eaters had learned something about how he moved and fought, and even worse apparently the five that originally confronted him had more friends forming a wider perimeter. With a large but unknown number of attackers spread over the area, he didn't dare take to the rooftops as he normally would, lest he expose himself to fire from many directions at once. His best bet would be to make use of the cover available to try and give them the slip. Not for the first time, Iruka lamented his lack of aptitude for earth-element ninjutsu; being able to go underground would have opened up a lot of really useful options in this fight.

He couldn't tell how many people were chasing him, only that they constantly kept the pressure on, cutting him off before he could completely lose them and not giving him time to attempt anything complex. Smoke bombs were dispersed almost instantly by wind charms, and the bright sun made flash bombs near-useless. Based on the frequent cracks of Apparition he was hearing from the area around him, they were negating his straight-line speed advantage by simply skipping the intervening distance, presumably coordinating their movements somehow. His own attempt to Disapparate failed to do more than leave him with a pounding headache, suggesting come kind of interdiction that the Death Eaters could bypass. He also acknowledged to himself that, given that they were likely all Hogwarts graduates, they probably knew the layout of Hogsmeade better than he did. All in all, he was outnumbered by enemies with superior knowledge of the terrain and comparable mobility. Something needed to change if Iruka wanted to get out of this before innocent bystanders got dragged in, but what strategy to take? Well, he thought, what would Naruto do?

Normally, if someone was running full-tilt, they couldn't just suddenly stop; they'd just end up skidding or tumbling. Normally, that someone wasn't a shinobi that could use chakra to stick to surfaces. First-time learners thought that climbing up trees and walls was the most important use of that technique, but experienced ninja found that its greatest value was in allowing them to stop or change direction instantly no matter what surface they were on. The wizard chasing along behind Iruka discovered this the hard way, as the chuunin abruptly reversed direction, slinging a spread of kunai out in front of him as he charged directly at the Death Eater.

A hasty shield deflected the kunai that were aimed directly on-target, allowing the bracketing throws to pass by harmlessly, but it was positioned wrong to block the follow-up mule kick that Iruka threw at his back after dashing past under his outstretched wand arm. The Death Eater let out a cry of alarm and pain before being silenced as he struck the stone wall of a nearby house with a muffled thump. He fell, either unconscious or dead; Iruka didn't have time to confirm or follow through as several of the downed wizard's comrades Apparated nearby and started hurling curses, forcing him to dodge and evade once again.

More shuriken barely bought Iruka a half-second's respite, but combined with his unexpected turnaround that brief break was enough to lose his pursuers with a combination of a smoke bomb, a clone, and a shunshin up to a nearby roof where he quickly drew his wand and Disillusioned himself and hid behind a chimney to catch his breath and plan his next moves.

While he was planning, however, the Death Eaters were still searching. He could hear what sounded like an increasingly-heated argument down below, and saw at least half a dozen cloaked wizards hunting around, including what looked like at least one Disillusioned broom-rider overhead. Many of those gathering must have been panting hard, judging by the way their shoulders were heaving.

Just as he was considering whether he'd be able to slip away without being spotted by the enemy flyer, two Death Eaters strode hurriedly into view dragging a pair of struggling smaller figures with them by the elbow. Iruka recognized the teens as a pair of Fourth-Years, a Slytherin boy and Hufflepuff girl that he'd seen around the castle but never interacted with. Both were obviously trying to shout something, but must have been Silenced. They reached the center of the clear area and held their wands to the children's throats. "Found these two looking for a little quiet time," the one holding the girl said in an accented voice, prompting a round of amused chuckles. "Lucky for us, not so much for you two though, eh?"

"Umino!" the leader shouted, holding the boy in place, "I know you're still here somewhere! Come out now, or these little blood-traitors will pay the price!"

He nodded to his partner, who turned down towards the girl he was holding and incanted, "Crucio!" The girl fell, silently screaming in agony as she writhed on the ground for a second before the curse was lifted. Her apparent boyfriend was straining in his captor's grip, desperately trying to reach her, as the Death Eaters laughed. Some of that laughter spoke of sadistic enjoyment, but at least some sounded forced, strained, and more than a little uncomfortable.

"Well?" the leader called out, "Are you coming, or are you enjoying this as much as we are?"

Iruka knew he was caught. With two hostages, one already at least partly-incapacitated, he couldn't escape, and fighting would just get the children killed. As alert as the gathered Death Eaters were, nothing he could think of would let him get the two students to safety. While he could certainly kill at least a few of the terrorists with Disillusioned kunai, there were too many of them spread too widely to target them all in one volley, and anyone not killed instantly would likely target the hostages. Adding explosive tags would incapacitate more enemies, but explosions don't distinguish friend from foe and most of the Death Eaters were clustered around the two teens.

A basic ventriloquism jutsu allowed Iruka to throw his voice to the branches of a tree twenty meters away. "And I'm supposed to believe that you'll actually let the children go? You and your master don't exactly have a good track record on that front."

"Believe what you want, wog, your options won't change." Unfortunately, the vile man was right.

Hoping to hide at least some of what he could do, he returned to ground level with another shunshin, removed the Disillusionment charm, and stepped out. "How could I refuse such a civilized request," he said coldly, announcing his presence with a flare of sakki that caused two of the nearer Death Eaters to flinch back a step.

"Well, well, well," crowed the leader, "it seems you're at least smart enough to know when you're beaten. Not smart enough to show proper respect to your betters, but what can one expect from a foreign savage? Take him."

A Full-Body-Bind locked Iruka's limbs up, and as he pitched helplessly forward conjured ropes bound him tightly before he'd even hit the ground. Thankfully, his fall had been slow enough that he'd had time to channel some chakra to his face, so his nose was only bloodied by the impact instead of broken. One of the Death Eaters rolled him onto his side with a rough boot in his ribs, crouching down to peer at Iruka as several of his fellows gathered around as well. Strangely, even this close and from such a low angle, the chuunin couldn't see any of their faces - presumably they'd used some sort of charm to deepen the shadows in their hoods.

"Don't look like much, does 'e?" one of them commented. "Still a right bugger to catch, though." He punctuated this with another kick to Iruka's ribs.

"Gently, now," the leader mock-chided, "he has to be intact enough to answer our Lord's questions, after all. Now, Stun and Obliviate the brats, and let's get going before somebody notices."

"Can't we just..." the accented sadist from earlier said suggestively, as a sweep of his wand sent an arc of sickly purple flames into the ground just beside the head of the terrified girl.

"No, Dolohov," the leader said warningly. "Remember our orders. As little trace as possible, and no permanent damage to any Purebloods if we can avoid it. Now, as for you..." He turned back to Iruka and brought his wand to bear. The bound chuunin saw a flash of red light, then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relatively short chapter, I know, but how could I resist a cliffhanger like that?
> 
> Being American, I'm only vaguely aware of the slang of British bigots, so if I've used a term that wouldn't fit Iruka (from a racist Brit's vocabulary) I choose to hand-wave it as the Death Eater in question not even bothering to distinguish between different foreign ethnic groups.
> 
> I'm sure at least one person reading has come up with some way for Iruka to have potentially gotten himself and both of the hostages to safety, or to have escaped before it turned into a hostage situation. Thing is, when I'm writing a fight scene, I try to write as much of it as possible in one go, without spending a lot of time thinking about what to do next, since the characters themselves don't have that luxury.
> 
> The one thing about the hostage situation that left me disappointed in myself was that I couldn't think of anything Iruka could do to make sure the kids got away safely when he turned himself in. That's the one aspect that, if I come up with something between writing that scene and posting this chapter, I'll happily edit. I did think to add the strained laughter from some of the DEs to indicate that they're not 100% on board with hurting Pureblood children. This doesn't mean that any of them are decent people by any means, just that not all of the Death Eaters are unmitigated monsters. Even most of the real world's greatest villains and monsters have had circumstances in which they did show some genuine humanity, which to me only makes them more horrifying.
> 
> EDIT: One reviewer found it unbelievable that the Death Eaters would spare the kids, but beyond what I stated above there's the important factor that they're under orders from Voldemort. We see in the canonical Battle of Hogwarts that he's willing to spare even people that fought against him once they're no longer actively fighting, so ordering this group to not kill any Purebloods unneccessarily is not unprecedented. Also, don't forget that he's still trying to fly under the radar, and dead or maimed Pureblood children wouldn't exactly help with that goal, thus why the two get Obliviated so they can't report being attacked by a mob of Death Eaters.


	7. Rescue Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Torture
> 
> A/N: Based on reviews, I've concluded that the previous chapter in its original form failed to make clear how hard the Death Eaters were pressing Iruka. I've tweaked that scene slightly to hopefully fix this issue and added further clarification to that chapters end notes.
> 
> Underlined content comes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Awareness returned suddenly and harshly, akin to being woken from a comfortable deep sleep by being dumped into a vat of ice-cold water. Iruka's training kicked in almost instantly; since he'd obviously been deliberately awakened there was no point in trying to pretend at unconsciousness, so he scanned the room while checking on his own status.

Iruka was a bit bruised, and sore from lying on a hard surface for an indeterminate amount of time, but felt otherwise unhurt. A quick wiggle confirmed that, while he was still bound in magical ropes, he was no longer completely paralyzed. It was also enough for him to tell that he'd been stripped of his wand and all of his weapons and equipment, which wasn't exactly a surprise.

The spacious rectangular room he found himself in was similar in overall style and construction to much of what he'd seen in Wizarding Britain, with wood-paneled walls, a large unlit stone hearth about two-thirds of the way down one of the longer walls, a whitewashed vaulted ceiling in between large wooden beams, and a smoothly-polished hardwood floor. Large arched windows occupied much of the long wall opposite the fireplace, though their closed shutters denied the chuunin any reference for how long he may have been unconscious. There were four doors, all closed - two in the long wall, to either side of the fireplace, and one in each of the shorter walls, the one farther from the hearth being an ornate double door that was probably the main entrance. The ceiling was high enough that a long balcony ran along much of the long wall opposite the windows, bulging outward around the chimney, with wrought-iron spiral staircases at both ends connecting it to the room's floor and intricately-carved wooden columns above where the wall was below the balcony, opening some further space that Iruka couldn't see from his current position. A second balcony, so small that only one or two people could comfortably occupy it, hung half a meter higher than the first on the wall opposite the entrance, with a small set of curtained French doors the only access point.

In terms of decor, the only word to truly capture the room was "opulent", although "dark" might come in a reasonable second place. Whether naturally or by stain, all of the wood used in the room was various shades of dark, rich brown or red with some black accents. Everywhere one looked there seemed to be gilding, fine carvings, tapestries woven with threads of precious metal, and gleaming ornaments of silver and gold set with gems. Two large and beautiful but presently unlit chandeliers hung overhead and expensive-looking chairs, couches, and small tables were scattered along the walls. The overall impression was one of conspicuous wealth that was just tasteful enough to avoid being outright gaudy. Every bit of wood, glass, and metal was polished to an immaculate shine, glitteringly reflecting the paltry light cast by the cold, pale flames of a set of candelabras fixed to the walls around the room. This poor illumination left many parts of the room in deep, ominous shadows, though said shadows didn't actually hide much from the eyes of a trained shinobi.

Most immediately relevant, however, were the people in the room. Black-robed Death Eaters stood in an elongated arc with him just inside its base, evenly-spaced aside from several conspicuous gaps that presumably represented those killed in action or otherwise unable to attend this gathering. Only one of those present was unmasked; Bellatrix Lestrange was easily recognizable from the photos Iruka had seen, standing at the end of the line to his left with a vicious grin on her face and a mad gleam in her eye. Just beyond the base of the arc sat a throne-like chair with an overall form that recalled the Headmaster's chair from Hogwarts's Great Hall while its black wood and details in a motif heavily favoring snakes and skulls showed that it was custom-made for its current occupant.

Lord Voldemort sat there, his posture and expression utterly relaxed and supremely confident, though extremely subtle tells in his eyes and his mannerisms hinted at some degree of wariness, and even seemingly at ease the Dark Lord didn't need his inhuman features to put a viewer in mind of a snake ready to strike. Speaking of snakes, the same snake from the graveyard and the Ministry was coiled by the base of the throne, watching Iruka as if assessing his suitability as its next meal.

"Ah, Professor Umino," the ophidian wizard said, "how kind of you to join us." The gathered Death Eaters chuckled, though it sounded like a near-even mix between sycophancy and actual amusement. "And just as in our previous meeting, you lie helplessly bound at My feet. This time, though, there will be no plucky _Boy-Who-Lived_" he sneered the word mockingly "running to your rescue." His smug grin broadened. "Well, not yet, at any rate."

So he was going to be used as bait, then. That meant that taking a cautious approach and waiting for rescue or escape opportunities was out. Better to push hard and take risks; whether he escaped or died, either possibility would reduce the danger to his friends and students. Keeping his captors off-balance was the first step, and the most obvious method might also sow a touch of doubt or dissention in the ranks. "Yes, _very_ impressive," he replied patronizingly, "though just like last time it wasn't you that caught me. You really should be proud of your minions - it only took what, eight of them? Ten? However many it was, with a planned ambush and a pair of hostages. Not exactly a stellar performance, though considering your own record the past ten or fifteen years I suppose it's pretty impressive. I'll give them an Exceeds Expectations, since actually pulling off a mission exceeds what I'd expect from them, though so does holding their wands by the right end..."

"_**CRUCIO!**_" Voldemort shrieked, and Iruka's world was consumed with pain. It felt like every part of his body was being simultaneously stabbed by electrified red-hot kunai covered in salty lemon juice. He didn't know if he was screaming; he didn't know how long it went on; he didn't know _anything_ except that he _hurt_. After some unknown period, the pain receded to a full-body ache and his brain was able to do more than just process pain. "I was _going_ to offer you mercy in exchange for your knowledge," the Dark Lord hissed, "perhaps even a place in My service, but Lord Voldemort's mercy is limited, and My forgiveness even more so. You will address Me with the respect I am due or you will experience torment beyond your imagining as I _rip_ the information from your mind and leave you naught but a broken, drooling shell before feeding your still-breathing carcass to Nagini." The Death Eaters all stood rigidly still, whether from fear or anger or both he couldn't tell at the moment aside from Lestrange, whose face was a picture of furious hatred.

Right, wizards weren't nearly as big on bantering with enemies as ninja were. Best dial back on taunting the torture-happy megalomaniac while helpless. "Duly noted," Iruka groaned out.

"Well then, while we wait for My little missive to reach its destination, why don't we have a friendly little chat? We can begin with the secrets of your inhuman speed..."

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

What followed was _not_ pleasant. Voldemort would demand information, Iruka would refuse to answer in any helpful way, and the Dark Lord would alternate attempts to plunder the knowledge through Legilimency and bouts of the Cruciatus Curse accompanied by the mockery and laughter of the Death Eaters.

Iruka's only consolation was that Riddle seemed hesitant to actually tear his mind apart from within, and therefore didn't probe with quite enough force to cause damage. This allowed the chuunin to use what Occlumency skills he had alongside his training to resist torture and interrogation, steering the Legilimency attacks into memories that were usually germane to the topic but largely useless. When asked about his physical abilities, he focused on physical training, making sure to show his interrogator bowl-cuts and green spandex as much as possible. Questions about his homeland led to images of his childhood, Konoha, boring history lectures at the Academy (largely the same lectures as both student and teacher), and _lots_ of trees. Voldemort never went after any of the more heavily-classified village secrets, which was actually a little unfortunate since none of them would be of much use to him and most were linked to genjutsu- and fuuinjutsu-based booby-traps.

Interestingly, the probes tended to withdraw faster and leave less of an increase to Iruka's ever-growing headache when they encountered memories focused on his friends, family, and students. Once he noticed this, the chuunin began pushing more and more of those memories forward, further frustrating Voldemort but increasing the frequency of Cruciatus usage. As the interrogation went on, the accumulated pain and fatigue led to an increasing number of slips. It was nothing too critical, like how to access and use chakra, but there were at least a few glimpses of events like the night Naruto was born, the Suna/Oto invasion, Pain's attack, and what little Iruka had seen of the Fourth War. Voldemort now undoubtedly had a better grasp of Iruka's capabilities and fighting style, and definitely knew that he was a soldier and a teacher of soldiers. Iruka could kiss being underestimated goodbye.

The questioning went on and on, for what must have been at least a couple of hours, although it was hard to tell time reliably when inside one's own head or incapable of coherent thought due to pain. Still, every now and then Voldemort would pause and look up at the gradually-dwindling group of masked spectators for a few moments before returning to his work. It was as if he was waiting for something, but what?

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

Harry was on his way back to Gryffindor tower after Sunday breakfast when he was approached by a paper airplane like those he'd heard were used to deliver memos at the Ministry of Magic. He drew his wand, ready to throw up a shield or hit the animated missive with a spell if it proved to be some sort of trick or attack, but upon reaching him it stopped and unfolded itself, drifting down innocently to the floor. Still wary, he crouched down to read the note without actually touching it.

> _Potter,_
> 
> _You may by now have noticed a certain absence. Professor Umino is presently Our guest. If you value his well-being, you will attend Our servants at the Ministry of Magic and follow their instructions. You will not bring Dumbledore or his lackeys into this matter, for if any Aurors or members of his little Order should attempt to interfere We will be unable to guarantee your Professor's safety. Do be prompt, as he seems somewhat dissatisfied with Our hospitality._
> 
> _-Lord Voldemort_

The teen froze in shock. Thinking back, Iruka-sensei _had_ been absent at dinner; in fact, Harry couldn't recall seeing him at all since heading down to Hogsmeade the previous morning. He grabbed the parchment, too focused on other matters to worry about whether it might be booby-trapped, and broke into a flat-out run for Iruka-sensei's office, dodging deftly around other students in the halls and ignoring their shouts of confusion or indignation. Upon reaching his destination, he spent over a minute fruitlessly pounding on the locked office door, before giving it up as a bad job and haring off again, this time resuming his course back to Gryffindor Tower albeit with much greater haste.

Before he could take two steps across the common room towards the stairs to his dorm, Harry found his way blocked by Neville's solid form. His friend was flanked by Hermione, Ginny, and surprisingly even Luna. "Something's happened," the other boy said. It wasn't a question.

"Not here," Harry hissed, nodding toward the stairs. The group hastily made their way up to the Fifth-Year boys' dorm, which was thankfully empty at the moment. Once they'd closed the door and secured it with quick locking and silencing spells, Harry turned to his friends. "I just got this letter," he explained tightly, handing the now rather crumpled parchment to Hermione before heading over to his trunk and starting to dig through for anything and everything that might be needed soon.

Hermione was the first to gasp, but Luna quickly followed. "What are we going to do?" the brunette witch asked.

"First we should make sure it's true," Hermione pointed out.

"Already checked his office," Harry replied as he shucked his school robes and started strapping on the kunai holster from the set he and the others had each received from Iruka-sensei at Christmas. "Nobody there."

"He could still be somewhere else, Harry," Hermione chided.

"Dobby!" Ginny called. The elf appeared with his usual crack, dressed for a night at the opera; he was wearing a frilly shirt, black trousers, and a fancy and well-kept velvet jacket and cape in Gryffindor red. "Can you tell us where Iruka-sensei is? We think he might have been kidnapped by Death Eaters."

With a grim nod, a snap, and a crack, Dobby disappeared, returning seconds later, visibly shaken and with an even darker expression on his face. "Professor Umino sir be at the secret unspeakable place in the Ministry with the glowy balls, but so is many bad wizards and witches." His hands curled into fists, which surged towards his head before stopping, his muscles seeming to strain against themselves. "Too many bad wizards and witches, and Dobby could not reach good Professor Umino!" he wailed, "Bad Dobby!" He made another failed attempt to strike himself, before collapsing to the ground in despair.

"It's all right, Dobby," Luna crouched beside him and patted his shoulder consolingly, "you did your best, and getting yourself hurt or caught wouldn't help anyone." Her only response was a choked sob.

"So we know they've got him at the Ministry," Ginny spat. "Now the question is: What are we going to do to get him back? We can't call the DMLE - even if the Aurors believed us the Death Eaters would be gone before they could even get close, and Iruka-sensei with them."

"_We_ aren't going to do anything," Harry replied sharply, "_I_ am going to go to the Ministry and get Iruka-sensei back. You read that letter; you know I can't bring anyone else."

"Actually," Luna said, almost managing to sound calm, "it only says you can't bring in Order members or Aurors. There's nothing there against friends coming along."

"More importantly," Neville growled, "there's no way you're daft enough to think this is anything _but_ a trap. I know that short of Stunning you and sitting on you, we can't stop you from going anyway, but we can and _will_ stop you from going _alone_." The muscular boy turned to the girls. "Get your gear. We're probably going to have to fight our way out, so we need to be ready."

The girls nodded and ran off to their dorms to prep, Luna going with Hermione after sending Dobby over to the Ravenclaw dorms to get her things. Neville, meanwhile, strode over to his trunk, pulling out his weapons pouches and turning to Harry. "Give us a hand, yeah?"

Harry helped his friend strap on his kunai holster and check through his supplies, uncertain of exactly how he felt. He hated the idea of dragging his friends into danger, especially knowing it was a trap. At the same time, their immediate and insistent support filled him with warmth and pride, along with hope that they might be able to pull their mission off. Eventually, he settled on the much less confusing cold fury at Voldemort and his Death Eaters for their actions, coupled with a firm resolve that five members of S.E.N. would leave Hogwarts and six _would_ return.

A few minutes later, the girls returned. All five teens were now dressed for action, with trainers or boots with good, grippy soles along with sturdy trousers and shirts that wouldn't bind or restrict their movement any. Their various pouches and holsters were attached over these, with all of it covered by everyday black robes that looked unremarkable but were designed to be easily opened and shed. Their equipment included their kunai and shuriken, smoke and flash bombs, some soldier pills and clotting pills, plus medical supplies and potions (those that stored and traveled well), shrunken brooms, and Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Right," Harry said uncertainly, glancing around, "so how are we getting to the Ministry? None of us can Apparate, we've no Portkeys anywhere. Flying would take hours even if we knew the way there, hours Iruka-sensei probably doesn't have, which just leaves the Floo, but the Order doesn't trust it right now."

Hermione nodded. "You should be able to make it through just fine, since the Death Eaters obviously want you there, but the rest of us might not be so lucky."

"We'll have to go in through the visitors' entrance at street level," Ginny offered.

"The Knight Bus, then?" Neville grimaced. "I've heard you can pick it up just about anywhere in Britain, and go anywhere fairly quickly, but it's apparently a rough ride."

"If we can take it from Hogsmeade to the Ministry faster than flying, then we'll just have to put up with a few bumps," Harry stated resolutely. Decision made, the group quickly descended to join the train of students heading down to Hogsmeade. Once at the village they parted from the crowds as nonchalantly as possible and pulled up the hoods of their traveling cloaks. They lined up along a bit of out-of-the-way road on the village outskirts before Neville stuck out his wand.

The bus that appeared with a loud bang looked a lot like those transporting tourists all over London, except that it had three levels instead of two and was painted a vibrant purple. A pimply-faced teen took their money and a set of false names borrowed from Konoha shinobi, trying and failing to sell them lemonade and toothbrushes. He gave the group a somewhat suspicious look before shrugging his shoulders and encouraging the elderly driver to get the somewhat crowded vehicle moving.

Neville's description of the ride as "rough" was an understatement. It hurtled along and veered wildly around, hurling about its interior any passenger that had failed to take a firm enough grip on their armchair and sending the chairs themselves skidding across the floor. At random, irregular intervals, the scenery outside would abruptly shift with another loud bang, jumping between country lanes, city thoroughfares, large motorways, forest trails, and suburban streets with no rhyme or reason. The driver was apparently unwilling or unable to stop for or drive around obstacles like cars, trees, and pedestrians, instead swinging into oncoming traffic or onto sidewalks with careless abandon. Luckily for everyone both inside and outside, anything and anyone in front of the bus seemed to slide out of the way while the bus passed before snapping back in its wake. Given how crowded some of the areas they were driving through were, Harry both assumed and hoped that the bus was somehow charmed to avoid Muggle notice.

They stopped half a dozen times to let various other passengers off before finally coming to a screeching halt on a shabby-looking London street. "Ministry of Magic!" the conductor announced, and the five teens made their wobbly-legged way off the bus, glad to once again be on solid ground. The bus vanished again with another bang while the quintet tried to steady themselves and catch their breath. Luna seemed mostly unruffled, even if she did sway slightly, while Hermione looked to be on the verge of sicking up.

"Add 'making us ride in that infernal death-trap' to our list of grievances against the Death Eaters," the brunette witch snarled. Neville nodded his queasy agreement.

It took a couple of minutes for them to fully recover from the ride, before the three Pureblood students guided Harry and Hermione to a very distressed old phone booth nearby. Five people made for an unbelievably tight fit, but somehow they managed. Some sort of subtle space-expansion charms seemed to be involved.

Luna managed to squirm an arm over to pick up the receiver and dialed the number "62442". As soon as the dial had spun back from the last two, a bland female voice sounded not from the receiver but throughout the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Umm..." Harry thought for a moment, then decided to err on the side of caution. "Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley, here for a meeting with Tom Riddle and associates."

With a click and a rattle, a set of five square silver badges popped out from the coin-return chute, each bearing one of their names with the word "Meeting" underneath.

"Thank you," the voice stated, "Visitors, please attach the badges to the front of your robes." Once they'd done so through some dedicated squirming (along with several sharp elbows and a couple of accidental gropings), the voice spoke again. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium." The announcements apparently done with, the floor beneath them shuddered and began to grind its way downward.

They descended in darkness for a minute or so, before golden light washed over their feet and rose upwards as they emerged into the Ministry Atrium. Once the doors opened and the pile of teenagers fell out, Harry finally got a clear look at the room: The walls and floor were made of a polished dark wood, with a peacock-blue ceiling over which gleaming golden symbols were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. Harry could make out familiar bits here and there from his knowledge of Ancient Runes, but he'd never been any great shakes in the subject and tended to lean towards application over translation. Both of the long walls of the hall were lined with tall, gilded hearths, presumably for Floo travel, but they were idle at the moment. At the hall's midpoint stood a large golden fountain that gaudily illustrated wizards' belief that all other magical races worshipped them, or at least should.

The Atrium was empty, since most Ministry employees didn't work on Sundays, but the security check-in desk by the golden gates at the far end was still manned. Seeing one obvious route forward, Harry led the others over, their footfalls echoing among the sounds of splashing water in the quiet hall. As they approached, the blue-robed guard turned to them, staring at Harry with glazed eyes. "Go ahead through," he said in a dull, flat voice. From the looks on his friends' faces, Harry knew he wasn't the only one who recognized signs of the Imperius Curse.

As they stepped through the golden gates (which weren't ostentatious at all, honest) a platinum-haired figure stepped from the shadows. "Well, well," Lucius Malfoy drawled, "Harry Potter, finally here, though I do believe you were told to come alone."

"I was told not to involve the Order or the Aurors," Harry snapped back, glaring angrily at the Death Eater, "and I don't see any of them around, do you?"

Malfoy sneered. "Indeed. I shall have to inform Severus that you aren't quite as foolish as he likes to claim, or perhaps one of your little friends came up with this idea for you? No matter, this way." While the man didn't have his wand drawn, he was holding firmly to the head of his cane, and made sure to keep all five of them in sight as he urged them into a waiting lift.

After what was probably the tensest lift ride in the history of civilization, they emerged at the lowest floor where the automated voice announced, "Department of Mysteries." Their escort then led them down the hallway to the closed door at the end, beside which slumped two unfamiliar wizards bound and presumably unconscious. The black door swung open silently at their approach, admitting them into a circular room with identical doors evenly-spaced all the way around, with candles mounted to the wall between each burning with blue flame. Like the doors, every other surface in the room was jet black, sucking away what little light the candles cast.

The moment Malfoy closed the door behind them, the wall started to spin, speeding up until the candles' flames blurred together into a solid blue line like a neon tube. After several seconds of this, they slowed to a stop, but Harry didn't think any of them had even the faintest clue which door they'd come in through. A rustling sound heralded a second adult wizard appearing from under an Invisibility Cloak; Harry recognized him as Augustus Rookwood, Death Eater and disgraced former Unspeakable, from the photos and profiles S.E.N. had studied of known followers of Voldemort.

"Five of them, Lucius?" Though somewhat hoarse, the man's voice was cultured, its tone pleasant, albeit slightly annoyed. "Whatever. This way." With a shrug, he led them to one particular door indistinguishable from any of the others. The room beyond was practically covered in clocks of every type and description, all ticking away in quiet bedlam. At the far end stood a massive crystal bell jar full of billowing, glittering wind.

They didn't get much chance to look at things, however, as Rookwood strode forward between the desks and to another door, opening it to reveal a vast room filled with seemingly-endless rows of towering shelves lined with small glass orbs, some of which had an odd, faint glow to them. Their destination turned out to be row ninety-seven, by which stood another ten Death Eaters with an open steamer trunk behind them and Iruka-sensei lying bound and unconscious on the floor in front of them. Harry recognized the one unmasked member of the group as Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Ooh, Lucius!" Bellatrix crowed, "You've brought me another Longbottom! Too bad you couldn't have gotten that old battleaxe as well - I'd have been able to collect the whole set!"

"Not now, Bella," her brother-in-law admonished. "Maybe once we're done with our mission the Dark Lord will let you _play _a little." He sneered the word 'play' in disgust. "As for you," he turned to Harry, "right down that row, you'll know which one we want."

"Why me, though," he asked, playing ignorant, "why go to all this trouble rather than get it yourselves?"

Rookwood scoffed. "You think the Department of Mysteries would let just anyone walk in here and take what they want? Every orb in this room is enchanted so anyone trying to take one of them gets a real nasty surprise if they're not involved in that prophecy. Our Lord isn't quite ready for his public debut just yet, and the old meddler is too much trouble, but you? You we can work with."

"And how do we know that's really Iruka-sensei?" Neville demanded. "For all we know you could have one of your friends under Polyjuice. It's not that we don't trust you..." he said in a conciliatory tone before pausing, and continuing in a much more deadpan voice, "it's just that we don't trust you."

Several of the Death Eaters actually chuckled at that, with Bellatrix outright cackling. "You've got spirit, brat," one of them said, "not much brains, but definitely spirit. I suppose you're right, though - can't do a deal without confirming the merchandise, after all." He drew his wand and revived Iruka with a lazy flick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's long already, and I'd rather not break things in the middle of the action.
> 
> The description of the Malfoy ballroom got away from me, I'll admit it. I pictured it in my head, but that picture just kept growing more details. If you're wondering (you probably aren't, but whatever) the large balcony is meant for mingling when one wants to take a break from whatever's going on down below, while the small one is attached directly to the master suite, in part to allow the hosts to lord over their guests and/or for the lady of the house to sneak peeks at what the guests are wearing before picking her own outfit. That little feature is borrowed from an old quasi-medieval-style house on the campus of my alma mater.
> 
> In case it's not obvious, Dobby was trying to punish himself but failing because he was under orders not to do so. Yes, he was able to extract the heroes from Malfoy Manor in Deathly Hallows, but in this case there were too many Death Eaters looking too wary and ready for him to be confident in getting Iruka out successfully. Also, he didn't exactly survive extracting the heroes in DH.
> 
> I wasn't even going to try and write Stan Shunpike's horrific mangling of the English language. Just assume he says about the same thing as in Chamber of Secrets.
> 
> Sorry to be rehashing/paraphrasing so much from Order of the Phoenix, but in this timeline this is Harry's first time visiting the Ministry, so I just didn't feel like I could get away with a quick "they entered the same as usual" kind of summary.
> 
> At first I was going to have them go by thestral, then decided that was unnecessarily close to canon events and made a slight tweak that made traveling by Floo make sense. Then I thought for some reason that the Floos were past the security desk, forcing me to rewrite things to have them take the Knight Bus. After that, I actually re-read the relevant scenes in OotP to get a better look at the visitors' entrance and the Atrium and discovered that the fireplaces were in fact outside the security desk, and thus backtracked a huge pile of edits. Then I realized that the Knight Bus journey read better, and dusted off a bit of earlier logic to turn S.E.N. away from the Floo after all. Getting them to the Ministry took FOREVER.


	8. Mysteries

Blissful unconsciousness was abruptly and unceremoniously replaced with painful awakening. Every part of Iruka's body hurt, his head most of all, and he was still twitching from the repeated Cruciatus applications. Training was done for a reason, however, and even in his badly debilitated state it took only a second or two for the chuunin to once again assess his situation.

Unfortunately, while things had changed a fair amount since he'd been Stunned, he couldn't really say they'd done so for the better. He was still bound and surrounded by Death Eaters, for a start. The dimly-lit room filled with strange orbs was unfamiliar and probably not a part of Malfoy Manor, but he still didn't know where he was, how he'd gotten there, or where the exit was. Worse, his five students were all present, undoubtedly here on a brave but incredibly foolhardy rescue mission.

"Go ahead," one of the Death Eaters said to the kids, "ask him something."

The five seemed to hesitate for a moment, before Hermione spoke up. "Name Uzumaki Naruto's predecessors, in order."

Trust Hermione of all people to pick a history quiz question. Then again, almost nobody in Britain would know who Naruto was, let alone the previous Hokage. He listed off all six names in chronological order, skipping Shimura Danzō per official policy; while it was obviously impossible to confirm given the man's death, after his actions at the summit prior to the Fourth War most people assumed that he'd mentally manipulated the Fire Daimyō to get the Hokage seat.

"Now that you've satisfied your curiosity," Malfoy drawled with an irritated sneer, "it is time for you to do as you are told. Go and retrieve the prophecy orb with your name on it." Ah, so they were in the Department of Mysteries, then. That wasn't actually _useful_ information at the moment, but it was worth noting at least.

Harry glared at the Death Eaters, but went down a nearby aisle and soon returned holding one of the glowing spheres in his left hand, his wand occupying the right.

"Very good," Malfoy said patronizingly, "you _can _follow instructions. Now, give it here."

"And give away the one thing keeping you lot from dragging all of us back to Voldemort?" Harry looked at Malfoy with a 'how stupid are you' sort of expression. "I don't think so. You're not getting this orb until we've got a safe way out of here."

Malfoy scowled. "Clearly you've failed to properly grasp the situation, Potter. This is not a negotiation; you will do as you are told or none of you will be leaving this room alive." He leveled his wand at Iruka, glaring at Harry. "Your teacher will be the first to die."

"Aww..." Iruka mock-whined, "and I'm still tied up so tight I can't even _wave_ goodbye." He caught the subtle widening of Hermione's and Luna's eyes, and nodded a fraction in response.

"Do you really want to go back to Voldemort and tell him you failed?" Harry countered, inverting the hand holding the prophecy orb so that the glass ball hung downward, ready to drop to the floor if his hold slipped even slightly. "I'm sure that after your success with his old diary he'll be _happy_ to forgive you bringing back a pile of worthless broken glass in place of the prophecy he wanted to hear."

While Harry spoke, Iruka could see Hermione shifting slightly, then felt his bonds loosen a bit. It wasn't a lot, the Fifth-Year still unable to get much power from silent spellcasting, but combined with four years of practice at applying the Rope Escape jutsu to magically-enhanced ropes it was enough that he was at least somewhat free to act. Now he just needed to wait for the right moment.

"Wrong answer, Potter," Malfoy snarled angrily, sakki spiking ominously, "**Avada Kedavra**!"

With a blast of poisonous green light and a rushing sound, the dreaded Killing Curse struck the bound figure of Umino Iruka. Said figure promptly erupted in smoke, revealing a corpse in Death Eater regalia.

_Thank the Sage for __**Kawarimi no Jutsu**__ and __**Henshin no Jutsu**_, Iruka thought distantly. From his position among his former captors, disguised as one of them, he took advantage of their moment of surprise and confusion to strike; his taijutsu was a bit slower and clumsier than usual thanks to all the Cruciatus exposure, so he kept things simple, direct, and brutally efficient. The Death Eater to his left went down screaming, his right knee bent at an unnatural angle thanks to a low side kick. To the chuunin's right, Augustus Rookwood couldn't make any sound louder than a choked gurgle after Iruka's knife-hand strike crushed his throat, and would be silenced forever in the next few minutes barring emergency medical aid that Iruka doubted any of the Death Eaters present had the skills or inclination to provide.

As his remaining enemies turned to him, all practically radiating bloodlust, Iruka shouted "Run!" to his students, ready to lash out once more, when sudden agony exploded along his right side. The world spun crazily before he struck something solid. The pain, the impact, and his already battered state from many hours of interrogation left him unable to even move as his consciousness slipped away.

\‾‾‾‾\/‾‾‾‾\/‾‾‾‾/  
(O) (O)  
U

Dobby watched from the shadows as Bad Old Master and the other bad witches and wizards chased Great Harry Potter Sir and his friends out of the glowy ball room. Dobby hadn't been able to help Professor Ninja Sir before with so many bad witches and wizards around him, but they were all gone now except for the two that Professor Ninja Sir defeated and Professor Ninja Sir was hurt and might die if he didn't get help soon. It would make Dobby too tired to help Great Harry Potter Sir any more today, but Dobby knew that Great Harry Potter Sir and his friends were much greater wizards and witches than Bad Old Master and would be safe.

As Dobby grabbed Professor Ninja Sir and snapped Dobby's finger to take them both to Madam Healer Lady at Hoggywarts, Dobby glanced at the ruins of the glowy ball room. How wonderful Great Harry Potter Sir and his friends were for giving the Ministry's house-elves such a large mess to clean!

-――――===ͽ ᛋ ͼ===――――-

"Run!"

Harry tensed, a curse already coming to his lips as his wand rose, when Bellatrix Lestrange blasted Iruka-sensei in the side with what looked like a **Confrigo** or something similar and sent him crashing into and through some nearby shelves. Prophecy orbs shattered by the dozens as the shelves collapsed, many of them giving off wisps of silvery mist that shaped themselves into miniature human figures and began to speak. Even if he'd wanted to, there were too many at once to make any of them out.

"**Diffindo**!" Harry shouted angrily, sweeping his wand across in front of him at around shoulder-height. Several Death Eaters threw up hasty shields, blocking most of the Severing Charm, though at least two still suffered superficial gashes where a bit of his attack slipped through the gaps.

An instant later, he was forced to dodge a Stunner sent in reply, prompting Malfoy to order "DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY! CUT THEM OFF!"

That was all the opportunity S.E.N. needed, backpedaling rapidly while hurling a barrage of offensive spells against the wall of shields raised by the Death Eaters.

"After them!" Malfoy yelled.

"Flash!" Ginny called, her left hand flicking out. All five teens immediately turned their heads away and sprinted for the door they'd come in through. Before they'd even taken two steps, the dimly-lit room around them was briefly cast into harsh white light and stark shadow as the flash bomb she'd thrown went off between the two groups of magicals. They ran to the accompaniment of shouts of pain and confusion from the blinded Death Eaters, though Harry did have to hurriedly shield against Bellatrix's attempt to Summon the prophecy orb from his grip.

Once they were in the room with the clocks, they slowed briefly to seal the door with a **Colloportus**, shuck their robes, and stow the prophecy orb in an expanded pouch on Harry's belt. "What do we do now?" Hermione asked, "Even if they're holding back we're outnumbered two-to-one, and one of them is _Bellatrix Lestrange_! We don't know how to find the right door in that spinning room, so the only way to get out would be to keep guessing until we get lucky."

"I don't think _they_ know either," Luna pointed out, "since Malfoy needed Rookwood, the former Unspeakable, to lead him through. Rookwood's the one that Iruka-sensei, you know..." The blonde's usual good cheer was absent; having witnessed two people die so violently was hard on the gentle girl, regardless of how evil they may have been.

"So we keep moving," Neville stated decisively. "We pick a door in the spinning room and take it if it doesn't lead back in here. Either they'll have bad odds of picking the same door if they stick together, or they'll split up into groups that'd be a bit more manageable."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry nodded, "or at least the start of one. Let's go."

One dizzying room-spin later, they opened a randomly-chosen door and dashed through. Hermione turned to lock the door when Luna pushed her wand down. "Don't," she whispered urgently, "it'll tell them which way we've gone, and we might want to run back at some point. We should keep going another room deep so they can't see us from the door."

They hustled quietly through the room that looked like a bizarre cross between an office and a casino. Desks, bookshelves, and filing cabinets abounded, but so did dice, cards, and other equipment for games of chance. Large chalkboards were filled with lists of numbers with no discernable pattern, and most bizarrely Harry glimpsed what seemed to be a small potion-brewing lab through the open door of a side room. He considered having them hole up there, but decided that having a spare exit would probably be a good idea.

Opening the door to the next room slapped them in the face with bright light and warm, humid air. Looking around once their eyes had adjusted, they saw that the desks and other office furniture in this area were scattered among numerous tables, racks, tanks, and cages containing a broad variety of plants and small animals (the latter of which seemed oblivious to the teens' presence).

Seeing two closed doors aside from the one they'd entered by, Harry and Luna listened at the other doors, hearing nothing for the moment. "Here's a good spot to stop for now," he decided. "The light should dazzle anybody else coming in the same way it did us, so they'll be vulnerable for a moment or two. Let's move some desks to give us some cover."

"Sounds good for now," Neville said, already Levitating a desk into position, "but what's our long-term plan? Even if we can catch a couple of small groups out, sooner or later they'll gather back up, and I don't like our chances when that happens."

"We need help," Hermione agreed, "but how do we call for it? Harry, do you have your mirror on you?"

Harry shook his head. "I left it in my trunk. I should call-"

He was cut off when one of the two doors they hadn't explored yet swung open, catching the group by surprise. "HERE!" a Death Eater called even as both sides took aim, "IN THE LI-" was as far as he got before a Stunner from Luna dropped him.

The second Death Eater at the door didn't waste time calling his allies, instead throwing a sickly yellow spell back at Luna, who dodged while retaliating with a household charm normally used for ironing clothing. Having his robes heat up and attempt to flatten themselves while he was still wearing them distracted the Dark wizard enough for a Conjunctivitis Curse from Ginny to blind him before a second stunner from Hermione put him out of the fight. Neville quickly Summoned both men's wands and pocketed them.

"Back to the Spinning Room!" Harry said urgently, and the group dashed back the way they'd come, Hermione sealing the door behind them.

It was back in the half-office-half-casino that luck really turned against the group. The door in front of them opened before they could reach it, revealing another pair of Death Eaters. Both immediately opened with the Cruciatus Curse, forcing the teens to frantically dodge. They responded with spells of their own almost immediately, but with their formation pushed open for the moment it left them out of position for some to go purely on offense while the others handled defense.

Spells flew back-and-forth viciously for almost a minute before some kind of acid spell grazed Ginny's left arm and caused a nasty burn around the same time Harry landed a bone-breaking spell to the shoulder of the other Death Eater's wand arm. Both witch and wizard stumbled and cried out in pain, but Ginny was still very much in the fight, proven when she used her wounded arm to embed a pair of shuriken into the man that'd wounded her. The blades didn't bite deeply enough to take him out, but they did throw him off his game enough for Neville's piercing spell to put him down for good. Before the maimed Death Eater could fumble out a spell with his off-hand, an overpowered Disarming Charm from Harry sent him flying hard into the wall, where he slumped unconscious.

Harry led his friends back into the spinning room, snapping off a quick Banishing Charm to remove the corpse blocking the door. Once the spinning stopped, they cautiously opened a door at random and were overjoyed to see the corridor through which they'd originally entered. They ran desperately toward the lifts at the far end, but before the door could close behind them another door opened into the spinning room and began disgorging Death Eaters. "Hold this door open!" he heard Malfoy shout, "Don't let the room spin again!" The Death Eaters began charging across the round room, already hurling Impediment Jinxes and other immobilizing spells toward both the door and the fleeing teens.

The incoming spellfire forced the quintet to stop and defend, Neville throwing up a sturdy shield while Luna started casting counterjinxes to ease the burden. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny also started with a set of quick shields, but soon bunkered down behind Neville's to begin returning fire, each with their own preferred type of offensive spells. Ginny also once again started mixing in thrown blades, though the narrow confines of the corridor meant that her angles of attack were limited and her kunai were easily shielded against.

Both groups were at a standstill. S.E.N. had youthful stamina, practiced teamwork, and the freedom to cast anything in their repertoire without worry, while the Death Eaters held a slight numerical advantage, broader and Darker spell knowledge, and vastly more duelling experience. It looked like it would come down to a question of whether the Death Eaters' patience and restraint failed before their endurance.

Suddenly, a pleasant female voice behind Harry intoned "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries," before a much louder male voice bellowed "AURORS!"

Harry felt that he liked the second voice much better right then.

A quartet of scarlet Stunners shot past the teens, slamming into the shields of the Death Eaters, who responded with a volley of green Killing Curses, prompting everyone in their line of fire to dodge desperately.

"Go!" one of the Aurors shouted to the teens as he and his comrades stepped forward to join the fight in earnest. "Up the lift! We'll hold them here!"

Harry hesitated, wanting to stay and help, but concern for his friends' safety won out and he and his friends ran into the same lift the Aurors had just emerged from, slamming the button to return them to the Atrium. As the elevator rose, the sounds of mortal combat faded away below...

...only for similar sounds to abruptly start up coming from above. Upon reaching the Atrium, the five students found themselves witnessing a duel between their Headmaster and the Darkest wizard of their age. Magic like none of them had ever seen flew back and forth, devastating the room around the two powerful mages, neither of whom seemed to even be straining yet. Harry ached to curse the Dark Lord himself, or at least try, but he remembered advice Iruka had given all of them years before:

"_Never get involved in a fight that's above your level if you can avoid it,_" he'd said. "_Yes, you _might_ manage to play the spoiler and tip things in favor of your chosen side, but high-level battles can be extremely unpredictable, and you're almost as likely to throw things the other way. It also draws the fighters' attention to you, turning you into a target for someone you can't beat, so it's extremely dangerous on top of being unreliable._"

Even so, the teen gripped his wand tightly, either readying himself to either add his own curses to the mix or defend against incoming fire, he wasn't really sure which. Beside him, his friends did the same.

Meanwhile, the fireplaces were flaring green and disgorging wizards and witches at an increasing rate. There were Aurors, several green-robed Healers, and numerous others. One fireplace spit out several Weasleys in a row, and another produced Minister Fudge himself.

"It would appear that we have an audience, Tom," Professor Dumbledore said mildly.

Voldemort snarled, seemingly noticing the growing crowd (many of whom had drawn their wands and were looking nervously at the duel) for the first time. "And so you live for another day, Dumbledore," he spat, and with that parting shot he vanished.

-――――===ͽ Δ ͼ===――――-

Albus had been enjoying a pleasant Sunday and taking a rare break from the never-ending curse of parchmentwork when Poppy had contacted him about a frantic and exhausted house-elf suddenly depositing a grievously-wounded Professor Umino in her Hospital Wing. He'd used Hogwarts' internal Floo system to rush straight down.

What he found upon arrival was indeed Umino Iruka lying unconscious in a hospital bed with a Healer from Saint Mungo's treating the rather nasty wound to his side and an oddly-dressed house-elf Albus recognized as Dobby standing unsteadily nearby. "Professor Headmaster Sir!" the elf cried, "Great Harry Potter Sir and his friends be in the glowy ball room in the Ministry with bad witches and wizards! They is needing help!"

There was really only one place that could be referring to, and one likely group of magicals. Albus immediately shot off a Patronus message to Nymphadora, who if he remembered correctly should be on shift in the Auror office, followed by messages to Kingsley, Minerva, Sirius, and Amelia. While the details of each message varied, the core remained the same:

_Harry Potter and his friends are in the Department of Mysteries and under attack by Death Eaters. Gather all available help immediately._

With both the Order and the Aurors hopefully roused, he made haste for the Ministry himself. He Flooed back to his office, turning about immediately after emerging from his fireplace and grabbing another handful of powder which he cast back in the moment the green flames from his arrival had subsided.

The Grand Sorcerer strode across the Ministry Atrium, noting worriedly the glazed expression of the security wizard and his sluggish response to Albus's intrusive entrance. Before he could reach the lifts, however, he was forced to turn and block a Dark organ-rotting curse cast from behind him. A patch of shadow detached from the wall, resolving itself into Lord Voldemort.

Albus did some frantic mental calculations. He had some number of children presently in mortal danger and in urgent need of rescue, including Harry Potter. His presence would almost certainly resolve that situation quite quickly in their favor. Unfortunately, Tom's presence complicated matters: Neither wizard could reasonably expect to reach the Department of Mysteries to aid their respective sides while the other remained active here in the Atrium. Under no circumstances could Tom be permitted to join in down below; even with brother wands, Albus didn't favor Harry's chances of emerging intact from another direct confrontation with Lord Voldemort just yet, and his friends' odds would be substantially worse.

So, priority number one was to block Tom's access to the lifts. Number two was to survive and guard against spoiling attacks - losing the Elder Wand's loyalty at this juncture would be nothing short of disastrous, and Albus knew that his own value as a piece on the board was second only to Harry's. Unfortunately, actually defeating Tom was almost certainly off the table: While the Wand of Destiny rendered Albus effectively unbeatable in a duel barring outside intervention, the terms of the prophecy suggested that only Harry could truly bring Voldemort down.

Regarding Harry's safety, Albus had little doubt that the DMLE would already be sending Aurors down the lifts, which should provide at least some immediate relief. More people - hopefully many more - should soon begin arriving in answer to Albus's call. With any luck, they would provide not only reinforcements but also eyewitnesses, hopefully enough to finally convince Cornelius of the true nature of the threat to their world.

His best move was therefore to stall.

"Now, Tom," he chided, having reached his conclusion with only a couple of seconds' thought, "is that any way to greet your old Professor? I dare say you are not making a favorable impression if you intend to seek the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "My apologies for my rudeness," he said with mock seriousness, his eyes and wand remaining locked on Albus. "I suppose I reacted in haste when I saw someone barging right past the security desk without checking in - whatever would Headmaster Dippet say?"

A negligent flick of the Elder Wand had the presumably-Imperiused security wizard stunned, bound, and disarmed. No sense in leaving a dagger at his back, after all. "It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," he said calmly. "The Aurors are on their way -"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!" spat Voldemort. Freed of his need to cast silently, he shot a Killing Curse at Albus, who sidestepped. All of his sparring with Iruka, Filius, Alastor, and the others had left him fitter and sharper than he'd been in over a decade, and he definitely felt the benefits over the following minutes as he and Tom exchanged increasingly powerful and flashy spells, both playing to the growing crowd of Ministry personnel spilling from the Floos.

Glimpsing his wayward students as they emerged from one of the lifts, Albus smiled and reminded Voldemort of their large audience. Tom clearly didn't find numerical asymmetry nearly as pleasant when he was the one at the disadvantage, and promptly fled the field of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next chapter for the aftermath!
> 
> In case his section doesn't make it clear, Dobby felt so bad for not being able to rescue Iruka earlier that he snuck back in to look for a way to help.
> 
> As for why I have the Death Eaters attacking not long after Lucius told them not to, well, they don't see the prophecy in Harry's hand and they're aiming their nastier spells at the other four.
> 
> For every time the room spun, I actually random-rolled a d12 to decide which door they went through. The first two rolls came up "room not shown in canon", and the third came up "exit". I hadn't been planning on having the kids leave the DoM until after reinforcements arrived, but having them fight the Death Eaters group-vs-group in the corridor actually worked out reasonably well, I'd say.
> 
> Yes, things end somewhat akin to the canon version of the battle, but that's largely because the same character (Voldemort, in this case) will generally take similar actions under similar circumstances.


	9. Open

Iruka awoke in a substantial amount of pain; he felt like he'd been extensively tortured and then nearly killed.

Of course he _had_ been, but that didn't mean he was happy about anything but the actual "waking up" part. He'd honestly not been expecting that part, which made it a pleasant surprise, tempered somewhat by the fact that he was in pain.

On the positive side, his quick evaluation of his circumstances upon _this_ awakening was far more promising than the last two, considering he was once more in a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary. Judging by the darkness outside the windows and the fact that the candles had almost all been extinguished, it was some time late at night.

Despite the late hour, it wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey emerged from her quarters. She was wearing a more casual robe than usual and slippers rather than shoes, and her hair was tied back in a simple braid, suggesting that she'd already retired for the night. There must have been some kind of monitoring spell set up to alert her when Iruka regained consciousness.

The hospital matron helped Iruka into a sitting position, an absent flick of her wand piling pillows behind him to prop him up, before handing him a goblet of cool water. As he wet his dry throat, she cast a couple of quick diagnostics before putting her wand away with a satisfied nod. "Glad to see you back among us once again, Professor," she commented kindly.

"We have _got_ to stop meeting like this..." he croaked with a half-smile. "How long?"

"A bit over two days since your misadventure in the Ministry," she informed him, "though at times it's felt a bit longer. You were at death's doorstep for a while, and we very nearly lost you once or twice. If it hadn't been for that odd little house-elf bringing you straight here, you'd have been beyond saving by the time help arrived, something I'll certainly be asking the castle's elves about in case there's ever such an emergency again."

"Now," she said, "everything seems to be on track, and I can explain things in more detail in the morning, but for now I think it best that we both get some sleep." Iruka wanted to protest, he really did, but his eyelids were already starting to feel heavy. A bit of rest, he decided groggily as he was lowered back down into a recumbent position, would do him a world of good.

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The next time Iruka woke up, it was late morning. He ate a light but nourishing breakfast, took several disgusting potions, and spoke with Madam Pomfrey until the Hospital Wing doors burst open to admit a quintet of teenagers.

"Iruka-sensei!" came the cry from five throats and one mirror - Ginny had somehow obtained his two-way mirror and called Naruto. Iruka suspected her twin brothers.

"Hey guys," he said with a fond smile, "I'm awake."

_«So I've heard,»_ Naruto said dryly, prompting a weak chuckle from Luna and Hermione. While the Seventh could still only speak very stilted English, he'd managed to learn enough to at least understand most of what was being said as long as nobody spoke too quickly or with too thick an accent.

"I'm also gladder than I can say to see all of you here. Those were not good odds you were up against, regardless of my attempts to even them a bit, and it's a credit to your training and teamwork that you all made it through in one piece." His students' reactions varied slightly, but all were a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Now, why don't you all tell me what happened..."

And so Iruka was treated to the story of their fight to escape the Department of Mysteries. He praised Ginny's use of a flash bomb ("It wasn't quite the perfect setup for a flash bomb, but it was as close as any of us are likely to encounter."), Hermione's presence of mind to seal a door behind them, Neville and Luna's idea to use the spinning room to confuse their pursuers, and Harry's use of the brightly-lit room and his decisive leadership. He also noted that it sounded like it was time to give Neville the Other Talk.

Albus's battle with Riddle sounded spectacular, something Iruka hoped he could watch the memory of at some point. Naruto pointed out (with Iruka translating) that it sounded like the kids had witnessed their first true S-Rank battle. When they related their desire to join in to support the Headmaster, both shinobi supported their restraint. _«It can be hard, watching someone fighting and wanting to help them,»_ Naruto affirmed, _«but if they're too far above your level it'd put both you and them in more danger.»_

"Their opponent could well be able to attack in ways you can't effectively defend against," Iruka explained. "If they realize that, they might target you to force your ally to protect you, which in turn distracts your ally."

_«Of course, your attacks can also distract the opponent,»_ Naruto admitted, _«and bad guys that don't care about their minions will happily use this, sacrificing their own people to create an opening. It's scummy, but it does work, and your Orochimaru-knockoff sounds like the type to do it, so watch out for that.»_

"Anyway," Hermione cut in, "after Voldemort fled, Professor Dumbledore sent us back to Hogwarts while he helped handle things at the Ministry. The Minister finally seems to have acknowledged that it's really Voldemort returned rather than an imitator, and everybody's scared and confused and trying to figure out how to prepare for war."

"There's rumors that Fudge may be on the way out as Minister," Harry added, "but so far everything's been kept fairly quiet when it comes to what's actually going on."

"What about the prophecy?" the chuunin asked, "They didn't get it, did they?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I gave it to Professor Dumbledore. I didn't know how to actually listen to it or read it or watch it or whatever, except for maybe smashing it, so it wasn't doing me much good anyway, and he'd have a better chance of keeping it safe. He did promise no three-headed dogs this time, though."

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A couple of days later, Iruka had been released from the Hospital Wing and Albus had finally found a bit of time free from the frantic planning and politicking that had occupied his every waking moment since the battle in the Ministry. Moody had visited the Hospital Wing the day before to hear Iruka's rundown of his capture and interrogation, since Madam Bones felt that it would be easiest to send someone that already knew about Iruka's abilities so that the chuunin wouldn't have to constantly stop to explain everything or convince a skeptical Auror that his report was accurate.

Now Iruka, Harry, and Sirius had been gathered in the Headmaster's office. Iruka's mirror was also up and connected to Konoha, with Shikamaru and Kakashi listening in.

"It is clear to me," Dumbledore began, "that I can no longer withhold the contents of this prophecy from Harry. Sirius, you are here because you as one of his guardians have a right to know, and Iruka, I am also quite certain that Harry would soon share this information with you anyway. As far as our friends in Konoha, they provide a failsafe in addition to their differing perspective, as I am certain that Lord Voldemort will be quite unable to extract information from people in another world. In that regard, I would also ask that the prophecy orb be sent back with Gamato for safekeeping, to preserve it while placing it forever beyond the reach of Tom and his followers."

_«Good idea,»_ Naruto agreed with a nod.

After explaining the circumstances under which he'd heard the prophecy, Albus pulled out the glowing glass orb and tapped it thrice with his wand. The misty light within swirled upwards, forming the ghostly image of Sybil Trelawney, who spoke in a deep, hoarse voice very unlike her usual airy tones. "_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..._"

_"Troublesome..."_ Shikamaru piped up, _"just like every prophecy I've ever heard of, even the one about Naruto. The only real actionable intelligence is that Harry has to be the one to put Voldemort down, and that in theory only Voldemort could possibly kill Harry. Even that's not as helpful as you might think, though, since it doesn't say anything about capturing or incapacitating, which means while the Death Eaters might not be able to kill Harry themselves they could still capture him and hand him over to be killed."_

Harry was looking decidedly green.

_"Maa, maa, don't be such a pessimist,"_ Kakashi said. _"It also said that Harry's marked as his equal. That right there sounds like an even fight, but then look at their actual track record:"_ He turned to look intently at Harry, his tone becoming serious. _"He came after you when you were a baby, and you survived. You fought him head-on - or is it on-head? - at eleven and you _beat him._ You went up against his giant killer snake at twelve, and sure you had some help, but you _beat it._ You faced him at his full power while he was surrounded by minions and you were tired and hurting, and _still_ you _beat him._ Just a few days ago, you and your friends faced his best fighters outnumbering you two-to-one and you _beat them. _Every time you two have met, you've managed to win and he's been left looking like an idiot. Now consider the fact that he's already peaked in terms of power and skill, while you're still growing and training. Consider the fact that you've been outmatched or outnumbered almost every time up to this point, but now you've got a whole load of people ready to fight beside you, including a lot of ninja if we can find a way to join in. You can do this. We all believe in you."_

_«You got that right, y'know!»_ Naruto shouted proudly as Sirius put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

_"So, based on the fact that Riddle actively targeted Harry as a baby, I take it that he knows at least something about the prophecy's contents?"_ Shikamaru asked, conveniently steering the discussion toward less emotionally fraught topics.

Albus nodded. "Unfortunately, a young Death Eater had been eavesdropping, and was only caught and ejected after he'd heard the beginning of the prophecy, the portion which identifies the child. This was enough to prompt Lord Voldemort to target Harry, choosing the Half-blood like himself rather than the Pureblood candidate to whom it could have also referred. It was this choice, more than the physical scar, which I believe constituted the 'mark' portion of the prophecy."

"That sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy, then," Harry commented. At the somewhat surprised looks he received, he explained. "With things as nerve-wracking as they've been the last few days, and exams already over, Hermione's been researching everything she could find about prophecies and talking about it with the rest of us." He wore a fond smile here, one mirrored by everyone who knew the brilliant young witch. "In a lot of old stories, like the old Greek tragedy of Oedipus, prophecies cause people to act in ways that make the prophecy come true, a lot of the time even when they were actively trying to _stop_ the prophecy. Voldemort came after me to keep the prophecy from coming true, but that was exactly what made it happen."

"Where prophecies come from and how they influence the world has long been a subject of much debate," Albus acknowledged, "and it will likely surprise none of you that it is also a field of study pursued by the Department of Mysteries."

"But you said there was someone else, a Pureblood candidate," Harry said, "but who else was- wait, Neville?!"

Albus nodded. "Frank and Alice Longbottom also could be said to have thrice defied Lord Voldemort, and Neville was born only hours before you yourself were. It is quite possible that because of Neville's candidacy Tom paid particular attention to the Longbottoms, which in turn prompted the Lestranges to target them in search of their fallen master."

"I'm just glad neither of us ended up taking Divination," Harry stated. "Having to go back into Trelawney's classroom, put up with what I've heard her classes are like, after finding out that _she_ gave the prophecy that destroyed our parents? No thanks..."

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** V**

In the end, nobody had any more concrete insights into the meaning of the Prophecy and how they should respond, though Albus did suggest that the mysterious power Harry was supposed to have might be love, something Voldemort had long dismissed as worthless.

After the meeting broke up, Iruka was asked to stay behind to get caught up on what had happened during his convalescence; those listening through the mirror were invited to participate as well, but only Kakashi remained as Naruto and Shikamaru were both incredibly busy (much to the latter's predictable grumbling).

They started with a quick review of the events following Harry's receipt of Voldemort's ransom note and going up to when the five teens returned to the Ministry Atrium. Dumbledore also explained his own path to that point.

From there, Albus moved on to the fallout from the incident. "Apparently the alarm raised spread beyond just the Order and DMLE, and Minister Fudge was one of the later arrivals during my duel with Tom. This proved fortuitous, as witnessing that with his own eyes has finally brought Cornelius around to recognizing the true nature of the threat our world faces. With the public revelation of Lord Voldemort's return, the Minister has had to answer some hard questions, but thanks to the preparations he authorized he's been able to weather the storm quite ably. The furor caused by Lord Voldemort's return has, fortunately for Cornelius, largely overshadowed the revelation that one of his closest advisors and backers was an unrepentant Death Eater."

Iruka winced. "Yeah, without the distraction that could have done him some serious damage, coming so soon after the Umbridge debacle."

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement before continuing. "Public reaction has been largely one of shock and disbelief so far, gradually shifting towards fear. Minerva and I have already fielded a number of inquiries seeking reassurance that Hogwarts will be a safe place for children during this coming conflict. You and your students have been treated remarkably well in the press, as someone in the Auror office seems to have leaked the information that your abduction only succeeded because you were unwilling to permit harm to children and that Harry and his friends faced Death Eaters to rescue you. It is not entirely good news, however: The leak also included the fact that the Death Eaters were seeking a prophecy regarding Harry and Lord Voldemort. This has led the Daily Prophet to jump to a conclusion, as is their custom, but in this instance their conclusion is uncommonly close to the truth - Harry Potter, they claim, is the Chosen One who will save us all from Lord Voldemort. They point to not only the existence of the prophecy, but also Harry's survival that terrible Halloween and his recent success in battling Death Eaters."

"That's not good," Iruka frowned. "If everyone sees Harry as some miraculous savior, many will take that as an excuse to not contribute to the war effort themselves. After all, it's unnecessary when Harry Potter will save us all again," he spat with bitter sarcasm.

"Indeed," Albus nodded, "I have foreseen a similar trouble, but it is a difficult rumor to quell, both because it is mostly true and because it is an attractive thing to believe for many people."

_"You can't really kill a rumor,"_ Kakashi commiserated, _"just wait for it to die on its own. On the other hand, you could try and _use _it..."_ Both of those physically present in the office blinked in confusion. _"Take the rumor and shape it. Tell people that Harry-kun _can_ save them all, but he needs their help. Use him as a rallying point to motivate support."_

Iruka cringed. "Harry would _hate_ that."

"It would also make him an even greater target than he already is," Albus stated, "and come far closer than I am comfortable with to revealing the contents of the prophecy publicly."

_"Only the part that Riddle already knows,"_ Kakashi countered.

Dumbledore sighed. "I will consider it, but _only_ if Harry agrees. He will, after all, have to bear the brunt of such a plan."

Iruka nodded his agreement before changing the subject. "What about the results of the battle itself?"

Albus's mien turned deadly serious. "Two of the responding Aurors were killed covering the children's escape. While both men's families have been notified, their deaths will not be announced to the public at large. The Ministry's reason for this is to save face and maintain public morale, but my reason lies closer to home: I refuse to burden those five kind young souls with this knowledge. They would undoubtedly blame themselves, Harry more so than the others, for something that is in no way their fault. It is the duty of all adults to protect children, especially those such as Aurors who take up a profession dedicated to protecting the innocent. The deaths of those two brave men were solely the fault of Lord Voldemort and his followers."

"Exactly," Iruka agreed, "both in terms of actual responsibility and the fact that Harry in particular would blame himself. His friends, Sirius, the Grangers, and I have all worked to help him heal from his time with the Dursleys, but ten years of childhood conditioning aren't so easily overcome. Normally I wouldn't advise keeping secrets from those five, but in this case there's good reason to do so."

The Headmaster nodded, looking somewhat relieved. "Thank you for your support in that, Iruka. In better news, none of the Death Eaters who went to the Ministry managed to escape. Three of them - Rabastan Lestrange, Dominus Crabbe, and Augustus Rookwood - were killed, and the other ten arrested; Antonin Dolohov, the one that tortured Miss Blaine in Hogsmeade, will likely walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Beyond the obvious damage caused by the deaths of three of his best and the capture of ten more, Lord Voldemort has also suffered a severe loss of face due to the abject failure of this operation and the apparent defeat of his Death Eaters by less than half their number in schoolchildren. Severus has also informed me that Voldemort killed a further two of his followers in his rage at learning the full depth of his defeat in the Ministry. While such loss of life is always regrettable, under our current circumstances I cannot help but be thankful that none of those five deceased wizards will again take up wands against the good people of Wizarding Britain, and that the last two were eliminated without putting any of our own people in danger."

_"There's nothing wrong with being relieved at an enemy's death,"_ Kakashi reassured the aged wizard, _"especially in a conflict like this one. You're not up against decent, ordinary people that are just following orders and fighting for their homeland and their families, you're fighting a mix of power-hungry psychopaths, genocidal bigots, and violent sadists. None of those groups are the type to ever settle down peaceably as productive members of society; you're going to have to kill, capture, or otherwise incapacitate every single one of them either during or after this war. Any that slip through are just going to keep hurting people, even if they do it more quietly and subtly than they're doing right now."_

"I know that all too well," Albus sighed sadly, "but you must remember that I was either teacher or Headmaster to most of these wizards and witches. With a bit of effort, I can recall the moment each of them stepped into the Great Hall as an eleven-year-old child waiting to be Sorted. I mourn less for the monsters they have become than I do for the innocent children they once were." His expression firmed. "That past innocence, now cast aside, will not however prevent me from doing what must be done to protect those who remain innocent in the present."

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** V**

"Ah, Severus, come in and have a seat."

The perpetually black-clad Potions Master stalked across the Headmaster's office to the proffered chair, eyeing Iruka suspiciously. "You called for me, Headmaster?"

"Indeed. With the present conflict escalating, it occurred to me that a time may soon come when you might wish to be able to disregard a summons from Lord Voldemort." At this statement, Snape's eyes narrowed, glancing between Iruka and Albus in suspicion. "Do not worry," Dumbledore placated, "Iruka is aware of the vital role you play in gathering intelligence from within the enemy's ranks."

"As I was saying," Albus continued, "there is a way in which Seals can be used to suppress and contain cursed marks like the one you bear, thus Professor Umino's presence for this discussion. An individual from his homeland made use of something quite similar to the Dark Mark, though often on subjects who were less than willing. This Sealing technique functioned as an effective counter on those unwillingly marked, and should work at least as well in this circumstance."

The greasy-haired Professor sneered, though Iruka got the impression that he was masking some other emotion. "I highly doubt some foreign scribbles would be sufficient to counteract the knowledge and power of the Dark Lord. This... 'individual' was probably just a weakling with a modicum of talent." His look at Iruka clearly indicated that his last comment was deliberately referencing the chuunin's relatively limited magical power.

"Actually," Iruka replied, "he was and still is considered one of the most singularly dangerous people known to exist, the kind of man that could slaughter a small army by himself. In one incident, in a fit of anger, he brought down an entire castle with nothing more than a single kick. By now you've probably heard of the amount of trouble I gave the Death Eaters who captured me, but Orochimaru would destroy me as effortlessly as swatting an insect."

"More tellingly," the Headmaster said with just enough haste to preempt whatever caustic response Snape had just opened his mouth to deliver, "this method has already been successfully tested against Voldemort's work."

Snape's mouth snapped shut as he once more looked between Iruka and Albus. "And what would be this... procedure entail?" His voice held skepticism, caution, and an almost hidden trace of hope. "And what would be the _cost_? Dark magic is not easily countered or suppressed, and dealings with it almost invariably come at a cost of some kind."

"From your end, it would mostly involve sitting still on a hard stone floor for several minutes in nothing but a pair of shorts while I draw symbols on and around you in my own blood," Iruka explained. He figured that someone working as a double-agent would probably prefer directness and honesty over beating around the bush and half-truths, especially after dealing with Albus for a decade and a half. "Once all of the symbols were drawn, I'd activate the array. That point's where most of the 'cost' comes in - it'd be pretty exhausting for both of us and fairly painful for you. Nowhere near Voldemort's Cruciatus, according to the previous recipient, but definitely not pleasant. You'd probably be asleep for a few days and tired for a few more after that."

"The seal itself would be visible on your arm," the chuunin continued, "but we've found that a bit of charmed makeup covers it well enough that people don't seem to notice. You'd also be able to control whether it's blocking the Mark or not, since the strength of the seal is based directly on your will to reject whatever it contains."

"_That_," Snape drawled, his dark eyes burning with emotion, "will not be a problem."

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They placed the **Fūja Hōin** a few days later, after making sure that Snape had an excuse to be incommunicado for the next week. It took most of that week for the man to be able to stay awake for more than a few groggy minutes at a time, but unbeknownst to Voldemort his "spy" now had the means to refuse his call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat short chapter, but that seemed like a good place to break it.
> 
> A lot of fics paint Dumbledore as this extreme pacifist, refusing to use or permit the use of lethal force against the Death Eaters. I have found no canon evidence to support this interpretation, so I am instead writing him as someone who captures or incapacitates when he can because he absolutely hates killing, but who will use lethal force when necessary.


	10. Heating Up

The next meal Iruka ate in the Great Hall was... _tense._

News of Voldemort's open return was never going to be kept quiet, so by now the only living person in the castle that might not know was Sibyl Trelawney, depending upon whether she'd sobered up enough to read a newspaper in the past couple of days. Three quarters of the students were a soft riot of frightened whispering, hurrying to their House tables as they arrived and hurrying away as they left, and almost always moving together with their close friends. Many were shooting glances or glares (some subtle, some overt) toward the remaining quarter at the Slytherin table.

For their part, most of House Slytherin were at least attempting to affect a calm, stoic demeanor in the face of the mix of fear, suspicion, and enmity directed their way. A few, mostly Draco Malfoy and those in his orbit, either sat smugly or glared defiantly or hatefully back. Judging by the looks being thrown in both directions and the number of hands on or near wands, it likely wouldn't take much to trigger an ugly incident. The staff remained watchful, with the Heads of House in particular tasked with keeping their more hot-headed students in line.

Speaking of the staff, when in public they did their best to project soothing confidence and reassurance, though some (Minerva, Pomona, Filius, Albus, and Iruka liked to think he himself) did far better than others (Hagrid couldn't help but wear his heart on his sleeve, and "soothing reassurance" was not a phrase one would ever associate with Severus Snape).

Iruka had still been unconscious when Albus had made the announcement to the school. His reassurances that Hogwarts would remain a safe place might have calmed many immediate fears, but that initial boost had faded as students began to worry about their families at home and for their own safety once term ended. From what the chuunin could glean, the greatest comfort was coming from the spectacular victory over the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries coupled with the Ministry's surprisingly prompt and competent response. Having the Ministry of Magic actually prepared to handle a crisis and respond effectively was, after all, a very unusual state of affairs.

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When asked about working with the rumors regarding the prophecy and his role in the war, Harry had at first predictably balked. A discussion with Hermione shifted him to the point of considering the possibility, but he insisted on speaking with her parents before he made a final decision. Not only were Wendell and Monica his guardians, which gave them a say in anything to do with Harry, but they had also become trusted sources of advice and guidance. He also knew that drawing more of the enemy's attention his way would put those close to him at even greater risk, and he refused to do that without consulting them first. Iruka and the rest of S.E.N. had quickly given their own assent, but in the children's cases that didn't mean as much until their parents or guardians confirmed it.

The other request made to Harry was why he now accompanied Iruka up to the Headmaster's office. With his connection to Voldemort effectively blocked and the war about to heat up, Dumbledore had finally consented to include the teen in their hunt for Riddle's Horcruxes. For this meeting it was only the three of them present, and Albus would be leaving after explaining the situation - like the others, he was incredibly busy and so couldn't spare the time to take Harry through all of the relevant memories personally.

Albus delivered a (for him) relatively condensed explanation of Horcruxes and why and how the group was hunting them, then departed for a meeting at the Ministry, leaving Iruka to guide Harry through the memories. The memory of Regulus Black's death was not included, as it really didn't add any useful information and everyone on the Horcrux team except Moody agreed that Harry had enough bad experiences already without having to witness that horror.

After watching the memories, Harry easily identified the ring and cup as probable Horcruxes and suggested that some might have been entrusted to top Death Eaters. He also had two ideas that the others had yet to consider: "When Riddle came back to Hogwarts," the teen explained, "he had to know that Dumbledore wouldn't give him the Defense job. Kinda hard to defend against the Dark Arts when you're being taught by a Dark Lord, I'd bet. He must've had some other reason to come here, something he could hide by pretending it was just a job application. I'd bet every Galleon in my vault that he hid a Horcrux somewhere here in Hogwarts. For someone that was miserable growing up in the Muggle world, Hogwarts seems like Heaven. This is where he finally got to be special, the way he'd always wanted."

Iruka's eyes widened. "He's also a descendant of one of the Founders, further reinforcing that idea of being someone special and important," he said in realization, "but with Hufflepuff's cup and seeking other Founders' relics as well... he may be trying to lay claim the entire school, at least symbolically."

"Well he _is_ trying to rule over all of magic," Harry pointed out. "Where better to start than one of the most magical and important places around, where everybody learns how to use magic? It's also _supposed _to be one of the safest and most secure places in Britain, more than even Gringotts- Gringotts! If none of the Death Eaters had a Horcrux in their house, maybe they put one in their vault? It'd be a safe and secure place, and another connection to power and importance because anybody that's really _part_ of the Wizarding world has a vault in Gringotts."

"Oh, _that's_ going to be fun to check," Iruka groaned. "We'll have to bring these ideas up at a full meeting of the group and hope that we can either eliminate Gringotts as a possibility or find some way to get Goblin cooperation."

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** V**

As stressful as they were for his Fifth-Year students, O.W.L.s were frankly anticlimactic after the life-and-death battle they'd experienced just a week before. Of course, that didn't stop Hermione from obsessing about all the things she worried she'd gotten wrong no matter how many times her friends assured her that she'd probably gotten straight Os. Luna eventually managed to calm her down a bit by sitting her down and patiently browbeating her with logic and the fact that despite all her worries on previous exams, Hermione's test scores were always among the best in her year, generally only behind those with a clear gift for the subject; Neville's scores had consistently been top of the class in Herbology since his second year, while Harry was an acknowledged natural in Defense.

Shortly after O.W.L.s, just as the students in the castle seemed to be truly catching their collective breath after the revelation of Voldemort's return, a new blow landed: There had been another mass breakout from Azkaban, this one far worse. The first breakout had been a surgical operation, extracting just the core cadre of Death Eaters while leaving virtually no other trace of the incursion. This time, according to eyewitness statements from survivors, there had been no subtlety or finesse; Voldemort simply arrived at the prison with several Death Eaters, and at his command the Dementors had promptly turned on the human guards en masse. A swarm of hungry Dementors backed up by a powerful Dark Lord and his followers offered the guards no quarter, killing or Kissing all of them in short order save for one who'd been in a more isolated part of the structure and simply hidden himself in a broom closet and locked the door.

From there, the attackers had begun systematically opening cell doors. Not only had all those captured in the Department of Mysteries been freed (again, in some cases) but over half of the remaining prisoners were missing. Of those that remained, only a third were still alive and in possession of their souls. From their accounts, any prisoner that dared attack or resist was promptly killed, with the rest offered passage off the island if they pledged themselves to Voldemort's cause. Those that refused were abandoned to their own devices and the tender mercies of the Dementors until the swarm departed in the Death Eaters' wake. Only a few had actually been Kissed, with many of the rest braving the dangerous waters of the North Sea. Some would almost certainly reach shore alive, fugitives that would only add to the chaos already brewing.

The remaining prisoners had been consolidated to a single section of the prison, guarded solely by humans now, with their treatment markedly improved in recognition that they'd actively chosen not to join Voldemort despite the enticement he offered and hadn't attempted to escape when they had the chance. Albus had already put forward a motion in the Wizengamot to shorten or even commute the sentences of these prisoners, both as a reward and to free up more capable Ministry personnel for the war effort.

It was an obvious play on Voldemort's part, in hindsight: The incident in the Ministry had been an almost unmitigated disaster for the Dark Lord's side, with his entire force killed or captured without achieving their objective or even eliminating any high-priority targets. He needed a substantial win, and soon. Throw in the losses suffered in the graveyard the year before, and he was also down a large chunk of his most dedicated followers, with recruitment likely not helped by either of these high-profile defeats and the casualties taken - only the most devoted or desperate would readily join a group with a low survival rate.

In one fell swoop, the Dark Lord had gotten his clear victory, recovered all of his surviving servants, recruited a lot of new lower-level followers, and gained a powerful weapon in the Dementors. All of this was in addition to the damage done to the Ministry's forces and the burden they'd soon face trying to identify and recapture those independent fugitives that decided to return to a life of crime.

Even if they'd been able to predict that such an attack might happen, though, Iruka couldn't really see much that could have reasonably been done against it, especially in a short time frame. The Dementors had been too integral to Azkaban's security, too difficult to keep contained as it was, to get enough support in the Ministry for replacing them with human staff. That change probably wouldn't have helped anyway, not with Voldemort leading the attack personally; the number of people in Britain that could even put up a serious fight against him in one-on-one combat could be counted on one hand, and he'd have undoubtedly brought enough backup to overcome any defenders. Albus was probably the only person whose presence could have possibly discouraged an attack, but he could hardly move to Azkaban full-time. Executing the captured Death Eaters would have at least prevented their return to their master's service, but doing so without a thorough trial was the kind of extreme measure that would have been hard to justify. Their supporters and sympathizers in the Wizengamot would almost certainly have blocked any move in that direction, anyway.

It all boiled down to a fundamental problem with fighting a defensive war against terrorists or insurgents: They tended to be the ones choosing the time and place of battles, and they almost invariably hit vulnerable targets. There were never enough resources to protect everything that might be attacked, forcing the defenders to choose where to focus their attention while knowing that whatever they didn't choose would probably get hit. Things only got worse when the enemy had an S-rank fighter, since many S-rank combatants also tended to hold leadership positions, leaving any in the defenders' forces almost certainly out of position to protect any but the most vital points.

The Hidden Villages obviously had plenty of practice at guerrilla warfare from both sides, but the different conditions and the qualitative differences between magic and jutsu made much of their knowledge hard to apply. Shikamaru and Kakashi had both sent recommendations for Albus to pass along to the Ministry, but it was yet to be seen how effective they'd be.

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

Albus's speech at that year's Leaving Feast had been a mix of reassurances that victory was possible and exhortations to be careful (for those not aligned with the Death Eaters) and not to support Voldemort (for those who were).

Many of the children left for home with their usual joy at freedom from classwork badly dampened by fear of what was to come. The highly visible squads of Aurors at both Hogsmeade and King's Cross, and the less-obvious squad guarding the Hogwarts Express, were a stark reminder of the troubled times their country had entered.

**/‾‾‾‾\**   
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Lord Voldemort surveyed His servants, all cloaked and hooded in black with the highest among them bearing the trademark skull-like masks of His Death Eaters. Their ranks had swelled in the past weeks, beginning with His conquest of Azkaban. Most were worthless sheep, of course, only different from the rest of Britain in having just enough intelligence to join His cause when given the chance, but a few showed enough promise that if they acquitted themselves well tonight He might consider Marking them. With the losses His Death Eaters had suffered both in the last war and in the opening moves of this one, their numbers needed to be increased to provide Him with suitable field commanders. It would hardly do if He had to lead every little action personally - if nothing else, it rather negated one of the primary benefits of having followers to begin with.

One of these potential Death Eaters seemed particularly promising: Though initially paralyzed with terror in His presence (rather like a toad before a snake, he had noted with amusement), Dolores Umbridge had been almost as eager to join His cause as His Death Eaters had been to rejoin it. Apparently she hadn't taken it well when her precious Minister had thrown her under the Knight Bus for showing a few Mudbloods their place and disposing of Potter's Muggle relations. The latter had been, if anything, a public service: Based on what Severus reported and His own observations of the "Boy-Who-Lived" during His time possessing Quirrell, the Dark Lord could easily deduce that they had been the worst sort of Muggles. In any case, since joining Him she had demonstrated an impressive aptitude for the Unforgiveable Curses, especially the Cruciatus. She'd even mentioned having already picked a set of Muggles to use for her initiation; her surface thoughts revealed that they were her mother and brother, Lord Voldemort noted approvingly.

Umbridge and the other candidates would be leading some of the night's operations under the watchful eyes of veteran Death Eaters, who would evaluate both their competence and their dedication to His cause. All of the witches and wizards present had been assigned their tasks; a lucky few would have the honor of accompanying Lord Voldemort as He Himself sallied forth...

**-――――===ͽ (O) ͼ===――――-**

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was, to the surprise of just about nobody, a light sleeper. Besides the obvious, his paranoia also led to him wearing his prosthetic leg and eye even to bed. The three months of especially foul moods after he lost his leg and six after his eye had been put down to anger, both at those responsible for his injuries and at himself for letting them happen. While that had been part of it, part was also the fact that he'd taken that long to be able to sleep properly while wearing a less-than-entirely-comfortable wooden leg and an uncloseable eye.

Thus it was that his natural eye snapped open less than a second after the first alarm ward tripped. Actually, it was the _third_ alarm ward, but the first two had obviously been disabled by whoever it was. That was fine; all seven alarm layers were within an inch of each other, each a different version and none of them easy to detect or disable without setting off the whole lot. Number Three was actually the subtlest of them all, and half the distance in from Two that Two was from One. It'd take a particularly twisty mind to realize that just because the three easiest wards to detect were spaced evenly that didn't mean there wasn't another hidden in front of the innermost. If he lived long enough to see her again, he'd have to thank the Lovegood girl for the suggestion.

Moody rolled to his foot and drew his wand - which he never, _ever_ took off - in one smooth motion as if he'd done it a thousand times (it was closer to twelve hundred, actually; he'd practiced until he couldn't make it any faster), absently Summoning, shrinking, and pocketing his emergency bag. Everything of substantial value (whether practical, monetary, or sentimental) was inside; anything else in the house was just there to hide the fact that he was always packed to evacuate at a moment's notice. Well, there were also the booby-traps...

As the first crash sounded from outside, followed by a cry of surprise and alarm, a tap of his wand turned an unassuming section of wallpaper transparent and revealed the map underneath. The moment he'd heard of Lupin and Black's little project, he'd questioned those involved until he was able to create a rough version for his own property. It didn't show names nor passwords, couldn't hide itself nor insult folk, but it told him that he had at least a dozen intruders massing on his front lawn. Even if they were nothing but wand-fodder (an assumption he was _not_ fool enough to make) that many attackers would probably be through at least most of his defenses in under two minutes. It'd be closer to one minute if they had someone like the mad Lestrange bitch with them, and just too bloody short if the Dark Tosser himself was involved. Bottom line, they'd be on him too quick for him to do much fighting back, which meant he'd be best off getting gone.

The uneven thump-thud of his gait was drowned out by the sounds of spellfire, screams, crashes, explosions, and some very loud quacking (Merlin, but those twins could be twisted when the mood struck them). He could smell smoke, meaning the Death Munchers had already started to break through at least some of his anti-fire enchantments. That was fine; they were only helping make sure they couldn't take anything of value. A bit of spite was little comfort when he was about to lose his home and its contents, but there was still some satisfaction in it.

The whole cottage shook from the impact of a spell. Just bloody great, it figured that whoever'd come for him had somebody with some power to them. The female cackling that preceded the next strike told him it was the mad bitch Lestrange, so at least he probably wasn't up against the Dark Bastard himself.

"Oh, Moooooody," the crazy witch called, "come out and plaaaaaay! Let Bella show you just how much I've _missed_ you all these years locked away!"

He responded by throwing a particularly nasty explosive spell her way between the shutters on a window before quickly repositioning himself to avoid the return-fire. "You want me, Lestrange, you'll have to come in here and get me!" Of course he'd used a ventriloquism spell to misdirect his attackers.

"You heard him!" she shouted gleefully to the black-cloaked wizards around her. "Our Lord will reward you handsomely if you can bring him old Mad-Eye!" They hesitated, undoubtedly aware of his reputation. "Or you could stay out here and play with me..."

That got them moving.

After a couple more careful pot-shots that didn't do more than slow the bastards down a little, Moody pulled back into his living room, sealing the (already magically-reinforced) door behind him and Banishing an area rug away from the complex array of runes and other symbols it was concealing. He knelt down, the tip of his wand on the activation point, waiting, until he heard them trying to blast in the door. Even reinforced as it was, it probably wouldn't take them long even without Lestrange, but that ceased to be his problem as he triggered the array beneath him with a bellow of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" and disappeared off to Hogwarts. Less than a second later, though he obviously wasn't there to see it, the entire cottage disintegrated from within as dozens of explosive tags detonated.

When Umino had been setting up the array, he'd explained about how it included a bit that'd burn the entire thing out after a short time-delay to keep anybody from trying to reverse-engineer it. Moody had promptly asked, "If you can link stuff to it, could you include a little surprise for whoever's busting in at the time?"

They'd ended up using Severing Charms to cut away patches of the walls, floor, and ceiling to place explosive tags and lines of sealing script behind them before putting them back and magically repairing the cuts so it all looked good as new. When it was done, the entire house was rigged to blow just after the escape circle self-destructed. Placing the tags inside the walls not only concealed them but also provided an ample source of deadly shrapnel.

Bellatrix would return to base believing her mission successful. She'd lost all of the new recruits with her, as well as both her eyebrows, but had gained two burst eardrums and a host of minor burns and shrapnel wounds.

**/‾‾‾‾\**   
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Lord Voldemort watched the rubble that was all that remained of Amelia Bones's home burn. It seemed that His decision to send some of the raw recruits in first to soften her up had been quite prudent. There was no way that they, or she, could have survived that blast. That she was cunning enough to prepare such a thing (and it must have been prepared in advance - it was far larger than any spell could have produced by itself) and ruthless enough to use it merely underscored the necessity of removing her before she could become more of a problem.

**-――――===ͽ ͼ===――――-**

Hestia Jones woke with a start. She'd been relaxing in the bath after a long day, glad to finally get a break for once, but judging by the thick smoke pouring around the edges of the door her break was well and truly over. Quickly climbing out of the bath, she rushed out of the room only to find half the hallway already engulfed in flames. Staggering back from the brutal heat and choking smoke, a quick glance out the bathroom window showed black-cloaked figures outside, rubbishing the already unlikely chance that this fire was an accident. It also meant that her only chance of getting out of here alive was probably that weird circle that Pandora Lovegood had laid in last month. Unfortunately, that circle was in her bedroom, at the other end of ten feet of burning hallway.

In the end, she only had one choice. Cursing herself for a fool for having left her wand on her bedside table, Hestia closed her eyes and steeled herself before running as fast as she could through the flames, feeling them burn at her as she desperately tried to reach her only means of escape. It was agony, it was Hell, but somehow she made it to her bedroom door. Stumbling inside, she grabbed up her wand, ignoring how the charred skin of her fingers cracked and bled. Through the haze of pain and oncoming shock, she managed to reach the inscribed circle and activate it before surrendering to blissful unconsciousness.

**Λ**   
** -――――===ͽ < O > ͼ===――――-**   
** V**

By the time dawn broke, some of the scope of the night's violence began to sink in. All five S.E.N. members and their families were now crowding Grimmauld Place, along with half a dozen other Order members and any family they'd brought along. The Hogwarts Hospital Wing was a hive of activity as Healers from Saint Mungo's desperately tried to save Hestia Jones's life, as her burns were so severe that they didn't dare transport her. Even if she survived, it was likely that she'd be permanently maimed and disfigured.

Even Jones was lucky compared to some. Several Order members, mostly those without escape circles, were either confirmed or suspected to be dead. Reports from those making brief stops back at Hogwarts or Headquarters indicated that quite a few Ministry personnel had been attacked as well, particularly those in the DMLE.

It would be days before the full toll could be tallied. Thirty-four people had been murdered, including several entire families, with eight injured to varying degrees and another five missing. Given his own experience with Death Eater captivity, Iruka could only hope those five were either dead or somehow in hiding. Hestia Jones would live, but she'd lost seven toes, three fingers, and an ear and would forever bear terrible scars over virtually her entire body.

There'd been a tremendous amount of property damage as well. Most of the Order aside from those already living at Hogwarts were now homeless, as were the Longbottoms, Harry and the Grangers, and several Ministry workers who'd managed to survive or simply hadn't been home at the time of the attacks. Headquarters and several other Order safehouses were packed near to capacity with displaced members and their families. Sirius's house was mostly occupied by the members of S.E.N. and their families, along with the Tonks family and Madam Bones. Kreacher hadn't been enthusiastic about having Muggles in the house, but given that they were part of the effort to destroy the wizard responsible for Regulus Black's death he mostly took the attitude of "the enemy of my enemy is not my problem." If there was one thing a Black family elf could get behind, it was vengeance. Susan Bones and her parents hadn't been targeted, but after the attack on the DMLE director everyone knew it would only be a matter of time, so they'd packed up and been moved into one of the other safehouses, as had a number of other people close to the night's targets.

That wasn't to say that things had gone swimmingly for the Death Eaters, either. Not only had quite a few of their targets escaped (many thanks to Pandora's and Iruka's efforts), but they'd taken losses of their own. At least a dozen (some of the bodies weren't in a state that made them easy to count accurately) of the new low-level recruits and one as-yet-unidentified Death Eater had been killed, three by targets that went down fighting and the rest by a combination of the traps Iruka had set for Moody and Madam Bones and a bit of prior... _aggressive gardening_ by Neville on the grounds of his family's home.

Both sides had taken a mauling, to a degree that neither could truly count it as even a Pyrrhic victory. The Order had fared far better than would have been expected thanks to the escape circles, and most of Voldemort's higher-priority targets had escaped, but the public at large were more frightened than ever after such a brutal and large-scale attack.

Harry had regressed back into self-blaming mode, particularly in regards to the attacks on his friends and their families, something all of them were working to help him deal with. On the plus side, at least focusing on trying to pull him out of his funk seemed to be helping distract them from the loss of their homes and possessions.

In the end Harry decided that, since his friends had all been targeted already anyway, there was no more reason to hold back from Kakashi's proposal regarding the rumors about the contents of the prophecy. He even suggested that announcing that now might help quell some of the fear generated by the attacks, giving people both hope that Voldemort could be beaten and the option to actively contribute rather than waiting helplessly.

Almost everybody sitting idle in Headquarters soon threw themselves into helping Harry draft a press release, with some contributing more actively than others: Most of the twins' suggestions were admittedly wildly inappropriate, but they did a good job of keeping everyone's spirits up. Xeno's experience with the Quibbler helped them set the tone, and Wendell turned out to be a very capable proofreader (a legacy of having been raised by schoolteachers, apparently). Molly kept the whole operation grounded and focused on appealing to ordinary witches and wizards.

Their final product made it clear that Harry could (and certainly intended to) defeat Voldemort for good.

> "_But the prophecy doesn't say that I have to do it alone, nor that I should. I, and all the others fighting against this terrible evil, need as much help as we can get, but that doesn't mean you need to pick up your wand and charge into battle. There are countless ways you can do your part: Buy some Emergency Bonds from the Ministry, to help fund the war effort. Report suspicious activity to the DMLE. Help your friends, family, and neighbors update their wards. Volunteer at Saint Mungo's. Anything you can do to support the brave witches and wizards fighting for us all, anything to keep innocent people safe, anything to keep people from joining Voldemort's cause, anything to help those already suffering, it all contributes. You CAN help, and together we CAN win!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the scene with Hestia Jones to show that the Order definitely did not have it all their way.
> 
> Apparently just because an ASCII-Art divider survives being saved in a DocX chapter doesn't mean ffnet won't still shred it when placed in a Story chapter. Thankfully, after some frustration, I was finally able to tweak it enough to work.


End file.
